Harry Potter: Black Dog
by Aptman
Summary: Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban soon after he was imprisoned. After years searching for his magically hidden godson, Sirius finds nine year old Harry Potter living with the Dursleys, and goes from convict to guard dog in order to protect him. This story is set in an AU that twists cannon, and covers Harry's first year at Hogwarts. Hints of future H/Hr.
1. Chapter One: Stray From Home

**Chapter 1: Chapter One: Stray From Home**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the franchise of Harry Potter. The world and characters used in this story belongs to J.K. Rowling. Material has been altered to suit the needs of this fanfiction.

**A/N**: This is an AU story about Harry Potter's introductory to the world of magic and his first year of education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. While Sirius's involvement is crucial to this story, Harry is the main character with Hermione Granger playing an important role at his side.

**Warning:** This story is rated M for strong language and graphic violence.

* * *

><p><strong>Harry Potter:<strong>

**Black Dog**

**Story by Aptman**

**Hogwarts, June 1992.**

"…Be careful."

It came out as a whisper, barely audible, but the meaning was powerful. It was directed at a small boy, ragged and scraggy. His eyes, a vibrant green, held a determination that lit up from behind round rimmed glasses and messy jet black hair, that swept across his forehead to cover up his too famous lightning bolt shaped scar.

Harry Potter stared down at the bottle in his hand and then back to the foreboding black wall of fire. Behind those flames was an archway. Where it led, he didn't know but _the Stone_ was beyond it. For months the traps and protections placed by his professors had guarded the Stone and kept it from those wishing to harness its power. Now those traps were beaten by one of the very professors assigned to the Stone's safety.

Harry looked back to the girl who spoke a moment before. She was scared; he knew it because he was scared too. Her eyes were watery and her cheeks were stained with dry tears and dirt, but there was something behind those eyes, the way they stared back at him now, that spoke volumes of the confidence and faith the young girl had for the eleven year old boy standing before her.

Nodding, Harry tilted back the bottle and swallowed the contents. The liquid was bitter and cold. For an instant nothing happened. Then a chill ran through Harry's entire body. Panic struck as he feared they had chosen wrong. Had he taken a bottle with poison inside? But the feeling faded and Harry was able to focus once again.

Wiping his hand off on his disheveled school uniform, he decided to test the potion's effects. Sticking his hand out toward raging fire, the flames parted wide.

"Take care of Ron," Harry spoke over his shoulder. "Get help." With those parting words to his friend, he stepped through the flame.

Harry stumbled through the archway and righted himself. Stepping into a large antechamber, he took in his surroundings. The ceiling was tall, and the walls wrapped the room in a circle without doors or windows. The room was bare except for a full length mirror in the center.

This wasn't the first time he had seen this particular mirror. It was large and decorative; the writing etched across it read like nonsense, but Harry knew it to hold a very special meaning. This mirror possessed magic, a dangerous magic, which ensnared those who gazed upon it through illusion and desire.

_Why is the Mirror of Erised here? _Harry thought. _Obviously Dumbledore moved it to this room, but to what purpose? _

"Harry Potter," said a voice from behind the mirror, "how fortunate you've arrived."

From the other side of the mirror emerged a pale man dressed in long purple robes and a tightly wrapped grey turban. He stood with a relaxed hand on the mirror and had a slight smirk as he talked, but his eyes were calculating as if judging Harry's worth.

"Professor Quirrell?" Harry asked accusingly. Harry took a step back, startled; he hadn't expected this. Harry's scar began to ache.

"Are you surprised Harry Potter?" Quirrell's voice was laced with acidic sweetness. Gliding closer to Harry, he continued. "Did my act fool you as well as I hoped? Were you expecting someone else perhaps?"

Quirrell reached out and draped his hand over Harry's shaking shoulders.

"Potter," Quirrell began, but paused for a moment to reconsider his approach. With a broad smile, Quirrell looked directly into Harry's eyes. "Harry, my boy, I need a favor."

Quirrell let the statement hang in the air as he pulled Harry toward the center of the room, arm over Harry's shoulder. Quirrell kept the appearances of casual conversation as he walked, taking on a relaxed gait, but his strong grip made sure Harry understood there was no choice but to go along with him. Placing Harry in front of the Mirror of Erised, he stood behind him, holding the boy in place. Harry turned his head to look anywhere but the mirror's surface.

"I find myself at a loss," Quirrell began again. "The Philosopher's Stone: I know it is somehow protected by this mirror's magic; I _see_ the Stone within it. However, try as I might, I am unable to retrieve it."

Harry looked into the mirror, unable to resist the draw of the mirror's power. At first he only saw his reflection, but then the image started to swirl.

_Here it comes._ Harry thought, both excited and fearful of what would appear. Two bodies formed; both familiar and at the same time foreign to Harry's memories, and then more shadows and blurs began to take shape.

"I have a theory of course," Quirrell continued on, not realizing that Harry was no longer paying attention. "Tell me, what do you see?"

_My parents_. There they were reflecting back at him. Behind them, Hogwarts came into view. Hagrid was on the grounds in the distance. A boy with fiery Weasley-red hair was flying on a broom overhead. A young girl sat reading by a tree. Another walked up to Mirror-Harry and took his hand. _Family._

"What do you see?" Quirrell shook Harry, the façade of niceties forgotten.

_I see my family._ This wasn't the same image he had seen before. This was something so much more.

"But where's…" Harry began to say aloud. The mirror's magic pulled at him and bewitched his senses.

"Where's what?" Quirrell was getting angry. "Tell me what you see!" Quirrell's voice was unnatural now, and he turned to look at Harry.

Harry's eyes were frantically searching the mirror for the missing piece.

"Yesss Harry," Quirrell's voice was unnatural to Harry's ears. "Find me the Stone."

Somehow Quirrell's new intensity reached Harry through the fog of the mirror, but still Harry's gaze was locked onto the magic reflection within.

"Where's…" Harry started again. He was looking at the grounds of Hogwarts looking for someone missing from the perfect scene. Then, coming out from the distance of the mirror's landscape, a figure ran toward him. It was fast and dark, with eyes wild and teeth bare.

"What is it?" Quirrell screamed. He pulled Harry around to face him, but Harry's eyes were focused somewhere over Quirrell's shoulder.

"Black Dog."

**...**

**Chapter One:**

**Stray From Home**

**...**

At the age of nine, Harry Potter could not be described as anything less than a blemish to Privet Drive: an otherwise average and wholesome neighborhood of Little Whinging, Surrey, England.

"His poor aunt," would say Mr. Prentice, owner of Number 2, Privet Drive, whose lawn often had the misfortune of being tarnished by loose cuttings from Harry's inadequate mowing.

"The unruly boy is out at all hours," Mrs. Number Seven would complain. "Who knows what trouble he's causing."

"I watch him for his family from time to time, the dears. My cats don't go near him," Mrs. Figgs, owner of Number Six, Wisteria Walk, always pointed out, knowing a character could be judged by such a thing.

It was clear to the neighbors that Harry Potter was a menace. Just looking at him was proof enough. He never took care of his appearance, from his tangled mop of black hair to his too small shoes which were practically held together with tape. He was always out on his own: a sure sign of being up to no good. His cousin Dudley, a healthy boy who dressed right, was always off with friends, playing as a nine year old should. Harry, on the other hand, spent his time loitering around the neighborhood or talking aloud to no one at all in his own back yard of Number 4, Privet Drive. It seemed that giving him a roof over his head and providing him a nurturing environment, which came from a proper upbringing full of chores and good manners, could not beat the _strange_ out of the boy. Even after all their effort, the Dursleys could always be heard berating that living oddity for one problem or another.

His most recent misguided act was cheating in school yet again.

**Number 4, Privet Drive, June 1990**

"What's this boy?" Vernon Dursley choked out through his not yet fully chewed bit of supper.

Harry's stance was one of acceptance for his error. He knew when he did it that he'd be in trouble, and now he was about to receive the punishment at the hand of his uncle.

_Why?_ Harry scolded himself. _All I had to do was scribble down a couple wrong answers. It was stupid!_

Grasped between Uncle Vernon's fat fingers, was Harry's report card. Harry could make out a couple of the grades given to him. They weren't top marks for sure, Harry wasn't that stupid, but he did score little better than he should have in several subjects in his attempt to not repeat a grade.

"Cheating again Harry?" Aunt Petunia scowled from across the kitchen, and her lips thinned when Harry's brow creased at the accusation.

_Of course they claim I'm cheating. What they mean to say is that it's against the rule for me to do better than Dudley. It's not my fault I have to put more work into doing badly than he puts into answering correctly._

"We'll be talking to your teacher," Uncle Vernon spat triumphantly. "Dudley here gets ahead based on his own merit." At that remark, Dudley gave a superior glance to Harry.

So far, Dudley had remained quiet through the conversation, either due to the amount of food he had being shoving in his mouth or due to the less than stellar performance of his own marks. Harry was not sure which was the case, but was glad for it none the less. Whenever Dudley added to these discussions, Harry always found himself in even more trouble.

"We can't have you using improper methods to outscore an honest boy like Dudley," Uncle Vernon continued. "It would set a bad example."

Harry began to tune out the rest of what Uncle Vernon said. It was always one of two things with Uncle Vernon; Harry outshined Dudley, or something strange happened and Uncle Vernon didn't have anyone else to blame for it. In either case, Harry would be punished.

A plate falls off the table and breaks, even though no one was around: Harry's fault. Dudley can't run as fast in gym and someone laughed: Harry's fault. Vernon's keys go missing, lights go on or off by themselves, chores take less time than Vernon expects: Harry, Harry, Harry.

This was how Harry found himself outside, in the near darkness of night, picking weeds out from one of Aunt Petunia's flowerbeds.

Harry was careful to keep his mouth shut and work diligently. He knew he had what his teachers called an _active imagination_, though his uncle called it something else. Moments where he let his mind wander, that's when his imagination did its worst. His uncle knew this, and was most likely checking on him through the window to make sure he kept in line.

When Harry was younger and hadn't known better, he would often point out the odd things his imagination showed him. There were sightings of tiny men, bright lights, and things that shouldn't but moved on their own accord. They brought him only hunger, chores and a sore bottom. So, on guard from watchful eyes, Harry was careful to ignore his imagination as an olive-green snake slithered out from a dark corner complaining aloud about the weather.

_It must be nearly ten o'clock. I wonder if they forgot I'm out here. _Thinking it over, Harry decided, _no,_ _it's not that they forgot; they just don't care._

"So cold," the snake that wasn't there hissed.

A strong breeze swept through the garden and Harry shivered. The imaginary snake was right, even though it was summertime; the night was cool and damp. It had drizzled a bit earlier in the day and there was still overcast. The air smelled like rain and felt like a storm was coming. Harry got up to check the front door.

_Locked. _

The winds began to howl and Harry could feel the first drops of rain start to fall. He debated on whether he should knock, knowing that he would be in more trouble for causing Uncle Vernon to take the effort to get the door. Harry decided to play it safe by checking the back door before attempting to disturb his uncle. It started sprinkling before he made it around the house, and with a crack of thunder, it began to pour.

_This one's locked too, great._ Resigning to his fate, Harry knocked loudly, but to no answer.

It was really coming down now. Harry's only shelter from the downpour was the small awning hanging just over the back door, but even there, he was getting wetter and colder.

A flash of lightening startled him. A second ticked by, then another, and another. _Crack. _Thunder struck; wind raged. The worst of the storm was getting closer.

From the corner of his eye, through his rain covered glasses, he thought he saw something large move from one hedge to another. Harry backed into the door and peered out at the dark space around him.

"Shadows," Harry said aloud to himself as he wiped his glasses clean of the raindrops, "just shadows from trees moving in this wind."

Harry turned back to the door and banged on it again. Rustling noises drew his attention to bushes at the back of the property. Harry couldn't make out much from where he stood; the porch light only illuminated a small area of the yard.

From the sound of it, whatever it was, it was coming closer. Harry froze, hoping to not draw _its_ attention. Something was emerging from the brush, noisily disturbing the foliage as it moved. Harry still couldn't see it clearly, but it was big and it was alive.

With another crack of thunder, the lights on the block all went out. Trapped in total darkness, Harry panicked, and turned to the door again, pounding on it as hard and fast as he could.

"Let me in! Let me in! Let me in!" Harry repeatedly shouted.

The door opened and Harry fell. He could hear his uncle shouting at him, but Harry was too frightened to understand what was said. He felt a hand grab ahold of him and pull hard, forcing him from the floor into the kitchen. There was an angry growling coming from outside now. Harry turned to see the source of the noise, but in the dark all he saw was black. Then the power returned.

Hunched dangerously, under the dim glow of the porch light, stood an animal. It was black as the night itself, with wild fierce eyes, teeth bare, grumbling a low growl. Somewhere in the back of Harry's mind he registered Dudley's scream. With a deep bark, the giant beast leaped towards them, but it was met with the slamming of a door.

Vernon managed to close the door just as the dog came close. Harry could still hear the dog barking from outside and scraping at the door. Fear overcame him, and he hardly noticed as Vernon ranted and yelled about bringing dangerous animals to the home and dragging wet shoes all over the house.

Harry was shoved roughly by Uncle Vernon into the hallway cupboard: a place that had been both his prison and his haven from harm for as long as he could remember. Harry curled up on his cot and took comfort in the safety the tiny space under the stairs provided him.

Over the next couple of days, Harry entered the backyard with trepidation. Each noise startled him and reminded him of that night. Occasionally, he would see a glimpse of the dog as it ran around the neighborhood. He overheard his uncle talking to Mr. Prentice, saying he'd called the proper authorities about collecting the "rabid black stray". Aunt Petunia had gossiped with the neighbors as well. She heard reports that "the black dog's been stealing food out of the trash" from no less than three other housewives around the block. As the week progressed, it seemed there were more and more sightings of a black dog terrorizing the neighborhood. Several times, Harry had rounded a corner of Number 4, to find himself face to face with the animal. Initially dropping everything and running for the safety of indoors, Harry began to notice the dog never gave chase, though Harry did catch it barking at Vernon from a far a couple of times.

It was nearly a week later, when Harry was working in the backyard, he stumbled across something unusual. He was in the brush stacking limbs; the storm caused a bit of damage, knocking down a few tree branches around the property, and Vernon tasked Harry with cleaning the mess up. Harry attempted to ignore the blatant glare of Mr. Prentice, who was cleaning his own neighboring yard, and finish his job all the faster. As he made his way near where he first saw the dog emerge, among the broken branches was an umbrella. He picked it up to take a closer look.

"Hey," the scratchy voice of Mr. Prentice yelled. "What do you think you're doing with my umbrella?"

Mr. Prentice was glaring accusingly at Harry from the other side of picket fence dividing the properties of Number 2 and Number 4. Harry quickly traversed the yard and made to give the umbrella back to him, but Mr. Prentice quickly snatched it from Harry's hands with force.

"Running around taking things that don't belong to you," Mr. Prentice talked down to Harry. "We'll see what your uncle thinks about that."

Harry attempted to explain, but the man disappeared into his house before Harry got the chance.

_Looks like I won't be getting dinner tonight then._

Harry went back to the pile of brush he collected, but when he did, he found himself face to face with the long black haired dog once again. It was sitting with its head slightly titled, ears pointed up and alert. Its short haired, long muzzled face, combined with its long black mane of fur, made the animal appear strong and agile even from its sitting position. It rose up and made to move toward Harry, but Harry stepped back. As if recognizing his fear, the dog went back to its seated position and waited. Feeling courage he didn't realize he possessed, Harry cautiously approached it.

Harry reached a hand out to touch the dog, barely petting it on the top of the head. As the dog leaned into the petting, Harry relaxed. A rare smile forced its way onto Harry's face when he realized the dog wasn't going to shy away from him. Neighbors didn't trust Harry, and the school kids knew better than to make Dudley mad, but this dog didn't fear or hate Harry. Before long, he was crouched down next to the dog and scratching it behind the ear, with the dog laying half on top of him.

The dog lifted its head just before Harry's own ears picked up the sound of Uncle Vernon's car pulling up into the drive. The dog gave a small growl while looking in the direction of the sound. Licking Harry square in the face, the dog jumped up and ran off.

_Maybe you aren't dangerous and just hate Uncle Vernon_, Harry thought as he watched the dog run behind another house. _Smart dog._

Harry began to seek out the black dog whenever he was outside. Happily he discovered that it seemed to want to be with him as well. It was a good feeling to have someone he could relate to. Just like Harry, the dog was an outcast, feared and hated by everyone who lived on the block. This was better than playing pretend with grass snakes; they never had much to say other than asking about a warm place to sleep or where to find some food.

Harry had been in trouble the couple times Dudley told Uncle Vernon he'd seen Harry with the dog, but Harry thought it was worth the punishment just to see his uncle's surprised face. Every day, Harry would rush around the house to get his chores done as quickly as possible, and then he would leave the house unnoticed to find the dog waiting for him at the nearby park.

Things changed on July 31st. It was Harry's birthday. He would be turning 10, not that anyone else cared to count. Harry made sure to wake up extra early that morning to get a jump on chores. His relatives may have not planned a party, like the extravagant one thrown for Dudley only weeks before, but Harry decided some extra free time during the day was a well-deserved gift.

He was just rounding Magnolia Road, about to enter the park, when the last person he wanted to run into spoke up.

"Happy birthday Harry," Dudley said, wishing Harry no such thing.

Harry closed his eyes tight for a moment, hoping Dudley would just go away. Opening them again, he faced his paunchy cousin. Dudley stood just inside the entrance to the park, flanked by his friends. Dudley was the largest of the boys, round and heavy set like a baby whale with a blonde mop of hair on top. Piers Polkiss was standing on Dudley's left. Dudley's best friend was lean but as tall as Dudley was fat. Gordon and Malcolm, two meat-headed boys, moved around Harry until he was completely surround.

Running into Dudley's gang was bound to happen eventually. Over the years, the boys had made sport of terrorizing Harry Potter. It had been a while since their last "Harry Hunt", and Harry was actually surprised he'd made it this far into the summer without real conflict with the gang.

"Dennis is going to be sad he missed out on your party," Piers joked.

Dennis was probably the strongest of Dudley's friends. Luckily for Harry, he was currently absent.

"Cheers," Harry said awkwardly. He wanted to say more, hoping to prolong the conversation and stall whatever beating or embarrassment they had planned for him.

"Where's your mutt?" Dudley questioned. As he looked around and noticed it wasn't anywhere is sight, his confidence grew as he confirmed the black dog wasn't around.

_Of course_, Harry realized. _Dudley's left me alone all summer because he's frightened of the dog. _Harry began looking around for the black dog as well, hoping it would come running up any second. _Maybe it'll hear us talking._

"It's not mine," Harry began. "You know Uncle Vernon wouldn't allow that."

Harry glance longingly at pathway that cut through the park. Down the way, it led to a clearing: the place where he always met up with his large four-legged defender. If he could get past the boys, he could make a break for that clearing. He was by far the fastest boy there. Dudley's heavy physique would break sweat just watching Harry run, let alone be able to keep up with him. But with the boys all so close to him, Harry didn't stand a chance for escape.

Fear and adrenaline rushed through Harry. Something bad was going to happen unless he got away soon.

"That black dog's been spoiling our fun Harry," Dudley's demeanor grew grim as he spoke. "I think maybe me and the boys should teach you a lesson for running around with that dirty stray." He took a step in close in on Harry. "Then maybe we'll go take care of that pet of yours too."

Dudley made a move to grab him. Harry tried stepping back to get away, but ran into Malcolm instead. Malcolm laughed and shoved Harry into the middle of the circled group. Harry continued to try and get away, but the boys continued to push and pull on him, never allowing him to regain his footing. Harry could still see the park's path between the boys. He closed his eye tight to prepare for the inevitable beating about to come. The safety of the clearing and the protection of the black dog played over again in Harry's mind. There was another strong push that spun him around, followed by a swift punch to his stomach, and then there was nothing but the dull ache of his gut. In tears, Harry balled up on the ground waiting for the next strike, but it didn't come. There was no more pushing or boys laughing and taunting; just silence.

"Bark," the familiar cry of the black dog rang out.

Harry opened his emerald eyes to see a pair of grey-blue ones staring back. Harry knew those eyes; they belonged to his large, pointed-eared best friend.

"Did you save me?" Harry questioned as he leapt up and hugged the dog tightly, tears still falling down his face.

"Did they take off when they saw you?" _Thank you! Thank god you came when you did._

Harry pulled back from his savior smiling. He looked around to see if the boys remained close by, hiding behind the fence line or somewhere deeper in the park perhaps. But what he saw didn't make sense. Harry was no longer near the entrance to the park, but deep within it. He was in the clearing, the place he had prayed to be only moments before.

_What happened? I couldn't have been pushed around all the way out here. Did I pass out? No, I was getting thrown around… and then…someone punched me, and now I'm in the park._ It didn't add up.

The large black dog barked again as if sensing Harry's confusion. It nuzzled Harry into getting up, and began to walk to a group of trees. But before it got far, the dog turned and became alert, running up and stopping just behind Harry, facing away from him toward the path, and taking a defensive position.

"Where'd you go Harry," Piers yelled somewhere off in the distance.

"Don't know what you did," Dudley screamed, "but wait until mum and dad hear about this!"

"Over here!" Gordon said as he reached the opening of the clearing.

Harry locked eyes with the boy. At first Gordon glared back with intensity, but his expression changed when he finally noticed the dangerous black dog Dudley had warned him about.

"About time we found you," Dudley's voice could be heard as he and the rest of his gang caught up to Gordon. "Dad hates tricks. Harry's going to be sorry for…" Whatever Harry was going to be "sorry for" became forgotten as Dudley followed Gordon's line of sight to the snarling animal at Harry's feet.

Harry's companion made a sudden dash toward the group of boys, and as quickly as they came, they were gone.

_What's going on? _Harry's mind was running through a gauntlet of unanswerable questions._ What happened back at the entrance? How did I get here? How did the gang lose sight of me? How much trouble am I going to be in when I get back to Number 4?_

The last one was the worst question; it was also the only one Harry was fairly certain he could answer. Uncle Vernon hated anything slightly odd or "freaky", and always blamed Harry. Harry wasn't sure what exactly happened, but he was sure that it fell under the category of "freaky".

Once again, the black dog nuzzled Harry into moving toward the trees. In his confusion, Harry allowed himself to be guided behind the foliage there.

"I don't understand what's happening here," the excitement and worry was evident in Harry's voice as he talked out loud to himself.

Harry looked over to the stray.

"What about you?" He sarcastically asked the dog. "Any idea what's going on?"

The dog watched Harry for a moment. It was a deep and penetrating stare, judging him. And then something happened beyond Harry's understanding; the dog began to change.

Harry was young and didn't know why many things happened as they did: how electricity made the telly turn on, why a stop sign was red, or why a boy like Dudley got everything he ever wanted. But he did know what couldn't happen; Uncle Vernon had been very clear about that. Dishes did not break themselves, Harry did not get better marks than Dudley, and dogs did not turn into men before your very eyes. But as Harry frantically kicked with his feet and pushed with his arms to crawl backwards across the ground, he couldn't think of any other explanation for what he was witnessing. Before him, where once was his furry canine companion, now stood a towering figure of a man dressed in black.

The man shifted a pointed-toed boot, hesitating to make any sudden movement. Dark long wavy hair moved in the breeze to reveal the only remaining similarity between the dog Harry loved and the man in front of him: those sharp grey eyes.

"Harry," he spoke with a smoky whisper. His expression pleaded for understanding from the startled child.

Harry froze. Too much had occurred in such a short amount of time. Minutes ago, he was on his way to the park to celebrate his birthday with his dog, and now this.

"I…" The man paused and shook his head to gather his thoughts. "My name is Sirius Black. I'm your godfather." He looked away as he put a hand to his head and let out a breath that deflated his posture.

"Happy birthday," He added lamely. "Let me start over. I'm usually not so bad with words… Harry, what happened today: it was magic. Do you believe in magic, Harry?"

"There's no such thing," Harry automatically said. He surprised himself in doing so. He had been shocked into silence, but Uncle Vernon's words were etched so deeply in his mind, he couldn't help but to repeat them on command.

"There is, Harry," Sirius replied back. Dark features softened as he bent down, pushing the bottom of his long hooded coat out of the way and resting his arms on his knees. "There's a world of magic hidden beneath all of the mundane, full of miraculous things people like your uncle couldn't possibly dream of. What happened to you today, that was just a glimpse of those possibilities. We're wizards you and I."

"You're a dog," Harry was trying to piece together what this stranger was trying to tell him, but lacked the words to express himself.

"I've been splitting my time as of late," Sirius said, "dog by day and couch potato by night. I've been house sitting for a couple a few blocks away who were nice enough to summer overseas. I'm sure they'd appreciate how well I've managed the place in their absence. That is, if they knew I was staying there of course."

Harry continued to look blankly at Sirius.

I can be a dog again if you'd like," Sirius said with a wide grin. With a moment's concentration, he reverted back to the same black dog Harry was familiar with, and then he turned back into a man.

"I'm what you call an Animagus," Sirius explained. He saw Harry was still lost. "Animagi are wizards who can turn into an animal at will. In my case, I'm a Belgian Sheepdog, purebred as far as I can tell."

Harry relaxed in his position on the ground. Seeing this, Sirius rolled backward and leaned against the tree behind him.

"So," Sirius smirked knowingly at Harry, "magic is very real." At that, Sirius pulled a stick out from his coat and waved it around, causing sparks to fire from the tip. "A _wand_," Sirius murmured, referring to the stick in his hand. "It's how wizards control their magic."

"And when I ended up in the park," the wide-eyed boy questioned, "that was you? You did something with wizard magic and that wand to make me go from being in the middle of Dudley's gang to being here."

"No," Sirius said, confusing Harry more, "that was all you." He let out a laugh at Harry's surprise before continuing. "It's called _accidental magic_…Well, what you actually _did_ was apparate, and quite well I might add, but you did it due to accidental magic. Your magical ability grows and matures as you do. Sometimes, all of that unreleased magic gets built up, usually under great duress or excitement, and it comes bursting out in some random feat of magic or another. That's what happened to you today, any more questions?"

Harry sat quietly to process. Harry was a wizard, and so was the man-dog sitting across from him. That certainly explained his _active imagination_. Then he remembered something else Sirius told him.

"Sirius," Harry timidly began, "you said you're my godfather." Sirius nodded at that and gave Harry a warm smile. "Did you…I mean, does that mean you came to Little Whinging to see _me_?"

"Harry, you have no idea how long I searched to find you," Sirius's sincerity was evident in every word he spoke. "When your parents…" He let the sentence hang. Both he and Harry knew what he was speaking of. "You were supposed to come with me. They named me you guardian, but that night everything went wrong." He got a vacant look in his eyes as he remembered the night.

"The car crash," Harry added nodding solemnly.

"Car crash?" Sirius bolted upright at the statement.

"I know all about it," Harry said, trying to ease his newly found godfather's mind. "Uncle Vernon told me how they died."

"James and Lily did not die in a car crash!" The excitement in Sirius's voice was frightening, but he caught himself and tried to calm down when he spoke again. "Your parents were two of the greatest wizards I've ever known. Lily, she was brilliant, and Prongs, that's what we called your father; he was my best friend Harry. More than that even. He was family to me in ways my own flesh and blood never were. I wish you could have seen him in action. His transfiguration could give even the great Albus Dumbledore a run for his money. No car crash could kill those two."

"But," Harry once again found himself at a loss for words. Everything he thought he knew had been turned upside-down in a matter of minutes. If his parents didn't die in a drunken car wreck, then "how?"

"They were protecting you." Harry's godfather said, knowing what Harry was referring to. "Back then the wizarding world was at war against a terrible dark wizard, and your parents were right in the thick of it. Hell, we all were. At the time, we all followed the leader of the light; Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard of the age. We were young and thought we were invincible, but… Harry, you deserve to know the truth about what happened.'

"This dark wizard, he called himself Lord Voldemort. If you're out in public, call him _You-Know-Who _or _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_, because no one speaks his name aloud. I haven't spent much time with other wizards over the last few years, but I've seen enough to tell you they still shake in their robes at the mentioning of him. As much as I don't like it, I understand the fear. He was a powerful wizard, and the ugliest bloke I ever saw. He was willing to do anything to get what he wanted. And at some point, he decided he wanted you.'

"We got word of his plan, so you mum and dad went into hiding; used magic to make it so no one could find you unless the_ secret keeper_ told them. Being your dad's best mate, I was the sure choice for secret keeper, but your dad and me, we thought we'd out smart Voldemort and pull one over on the pasty tosser. I took off and had his followers chasing me all over the country side trying to find our secret. Meanwhile, your real secret keeper was that fat bastard Wormtail…" Sirius caught himself as he started to get carried away with his emotions. "Back in school your dad, me and two other boys were best mates. We did everything together, trusted each other, but the war changed things. Trust was harder to come by. In the last days of the war, it was just your dad, me and Wormtail. We made a mistake, your dad and me. We chose the wrong friend. Wormtail became secret keeper, and while I was away…that's when he betrayed us to Voldemort.'

"Your parents died that day, but a miracle happened too. I said your mum was brilliant; well, she did something that day that not only saved you, but got rid of Voldemort. Whatever bit of magic that was, it's what gave you that scar. Dumbledore says Voldemort used the Killing Curse on you. No one lives after being struck by that Harry, but with your mum's protection you're the first and only survivor.'

"I wasn't there to save them, and then I couldn't be there to raise you. We made a mistake letting everyone believe I was secret keeper. Once your mum and dad were dead, all the blame was on me. The only ones who knew the truth were Voldemort's inner circle and they wanted my head just as badly. Before I knew it, you were gone. It's taken me all this time to find you. I can't make up for the last few years, but I'm here now."

"My parents died to save me," Harry repeated, taking it all in. "You're my godfather, the one I was supposed to be raised by, not Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia…and you can do magic… _we_ can do magic."

"I know it overwhelming pup," Sirius said as he stood up and stretched.

Off in the distance, a father and son were playing with a kite.

"Harry, how do you feel about flying?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Well, That's the first chapter. Many of the elements from the first book will appear in this story, but as I've hinted with the Mirror Erised, this is a slightly twisted version of the world you know. Things will move along quickly from here. Next chapter, Harry gets a very important letter.

Update: This has been re-edited. Only minor changes have been altered: mostly phrasing and a couple grammatical choices.


	2. Chapter Two: Dog and the Postman

**Chapter 2: Chapter Two: Dog and the Postman**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the franchise of Harry Potter. The world and characters used in this story belongs to J.K. Rowling. Material has been altered to suit the needs of this fanfiction.

**Warning:** This story is rated M for strong language and graphic violence.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter two:<strong>

**Dog and the Postman**

**...**

**Magnolia Park, July 1991**

Harry loved flying. It was by far the best thing about being a wizard. It was one year ago when Sirius gave him his first lesson.

"You'll get this in no time," Sirius had said. "Your dad was a natural, might have gone pro if not for the war, and you have me as a teacher. I wasn't too bad at Quidditch myself back in the day."

Sirius had explained to Harry the basics of the wizarding world's most popular sport. Of the seven positions on the field, Sirius said Harry was born to be a chaser or seeker. They were the two scoring positions on the team; three chasers and one seeker, all of which had to be fast on a broom.

_A broom! _Wizards didn't use planes or helicopters, they used brooms to fly. Harry had his reservations about sitting on a pole several feet above the ground, but with magic called a _cushioning charm_, it wasn't uncomfortable at all. Sirius said the broom was a good model, an Oakshaft 79, released a year before Harry was born. He was lucky to procure it several years ago along with his wand, he said but that was as much detail as he would give Harry on the subject.

It took Sirius some time to figure out how best to go about flying in a suburb neighborhood park without being seen by the _Muggles_; as Sirius referred to people without magic, but eventually Harry was flying around sharing the broom with Sirius while _disillusioned_. Harry didn't know why Sirius didn't just call it being invisible. That was practically what they were. Visually, all that remained was a slight distortion like a moving heat mirage, hardly noticeable while several feet in the air.

Soon Harry was flying on his own, practicing turns and loops as Sirius instructed. They spent most days with Sirius regaling tales of his days back in Hogwarts or teaching Harry card games, with an hour of flying or running drills added at the end. Dodging drills were the most tiring.

"Bludgers are nasty," Sirius would warn. "They're like bowling balls with a mind of their own, and they hurt like hell when they hit you. Plus, being a chaser or seeker means beaters are going to be gunning for you. Luck for you, I happened to be an excellent beater when I was younger."

A beaters job was to hit the Bludgers at the opposing team to try and knock them off their brooms. Since they didn't have any Bludgers to use, Sirius fired curses called _stunners_ at Harry. While on a broom, Harry had fun with the challenge of swerving out of the way of the red lit spells each time Sirius yelled "Stupify", but as Sirius started casting silently each time he fired, it got increasingly more difficult. The worse was Sirius's tactic of firing spells at Harry while he was still on the ground.

"Stay on your toes," Sirius would remind Harry while laughing manically. "If you can't dodge a stunner on the ground, how well do you think you'd stand up against a Bludger while trying fly into position to score?"

"One of these days I'll have a wand of my own," Harry would fire back at his godfather's cruel game.

"But not today Harry," Sirius would continue to laugh back while increasing his rate of fire.

But then, and today there were no drills; Harry was just enjoying his time in the air. The last year had been the best he'd ever had. With Sirius in disguise as the notorious Black Dog of Little Whinging, Harry was harm free to and from school and whenever he ventured to the park. Chores were the same, and Uncle Vernon continued to punish him for his association with the Black Dog, but it wasn't any worse than he was already used to. And today was going to be the best day yet, because today was his 11th birthday.

"Hey Harry," Sirius yelled from below. "Come on down!"

Harry flew in a wide circle, landing beside his waiting godfather, tapping Sirius on the arm to let him know where he was before Sirius removed the disillusionment.

"I figure the post should be flying in soon," Sirius said with a grin. "You'll be getting your letter today for sure. Your parents would be proud of you."

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: Harry had been waiting for his admission letter to arrive since Sirius first told him about the famous school where his parents learnt magic. For a year now, Sirius filled Harry's head with stories of the hallowed halls and the magic within. This letter would be the first step to becoming a part of that legend. Too excited to contain himself, Harry took off running for Number 4, Privet Drive, with Sirius transforming into his Animagus form and chasing behind him.

_Where's the mail?_ Harry impatiently rocked in his seated position on the front doorstep of Number 4. His eyes darted back and forth from the mailbox to the cloudy sky overhead. _How does this work again?_ Harry berated himself for not questioning Sirius more thoroughly on wizarding mail while he had the chance. Currently, Harry could see the large black dog watching him from behind Aunt Petunia's rosebush. _Is he laughing at me? Can a dog laugh?_ With Sirius unable to answer his questions, Harry was forced to wait for an owl. Wizards could fly and apparate from one place to the next, they could cast spells to make you invisible and charms to render you unconscious, but they communicated with each other by writing notes and attaching it to messenger birds: delivery owls. At least, Sirius had explained, they were _magic owls _that always knew where to take the sender's letters.

_Sirius… of course!_ Harry thought. "You were having me on, weren't you?"

The boy glared at the half hidden dog. Sirius had a twisted sense of humor at times. It would be just like the old dirty mutt to build Harry's hopes up about getting a letter to Hogwarts, and then make up some story about how the letter was going to be delivered. He probably wanted to see how ridiculous the story could get before Harry caught on. _Owls delivering mail, I'm so gullible._

With a bark and a pointed look, Sirius drew Harry's attention back to the sky. There is was, just as Sirius said it would be; an owl, large and brown, looked to be heading for Number 4 and in broad daylight no less. There was a creek of a door behind Harry.

"Look here boy!" It was Harry's uncle. "What'd I tell you about bringing around that dog of yours?" Uncle Vernon frowned while hovering over Harry, waiting for a response, though if Harry were to guess, not really wanting Harry to answer truthfully. "And what do you think you're doing loitering around like some traveler?"

Just as Vernon Dursley was ready to send out a verbal barrage of insults to his nephew, the Hogwarts delivery owl swooped in, landing atop the front gate. For an instant, no one moved. Three pairs of eyes watched as the owl shuffled its footing, a letter gripped in its talons. It was Vernon who spoke first.

"No," Vernon commanded the owl, "absolutely not." He started moving towards the owl. "We'll be having none of that…that…sort of_ thing_!" Vernon began waving his arms to shoo away the bird. "Now off with you! Tell the old fool we aren't letting him put any strange ideas in that boy's head! Go!"

Harry watched his dreams shatter as the owl took flight to avoid his uncle's pestering, but before it flew off into the distance, it circled one last time, dropping the letter at Harry's feet. Harry reached down and picked up the large off-white envelope. Holding it reverently in his hands, he read the front.

_Mister Harry James Potter_

_Cupboard under the Stairs_

_4, Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging, Surrey_

Never before, had there been a post addressed to "Harry Potter". Not only was this his first letter, but it represented so much more. This was his way out of Little Whinging; his ticket to get away from the Dursleys for nine months every year until he was old enough to live on his own. When Harry first met his godfather, he hoped Sirius would take him to live in some magical place. It took a long time for the quiet boy to ask Sirius to do just that. But Sirius was wanted for crimes he didn't commit, and he was currently lodging in a home soon to be reclaimed by its vacationing owners.

"No one's looking for me right now," Sirius once told him. "Everyone thinks I'm locked away in the castle prison called Azkaban. If they thought I was free, they would watch this place. They think I betrayed your parents: that I got them killed. A murderer like that might come after you to finish the job. If I want to protect you, any contact "Sirius Black" makes with the wizarding world puts you at risk, and hiding you magically is the only way to keep you safe.'

"The protection you have here is a very strong and complicated magic. It's why it took me so long to find you, but I won't leave you now that I have. As long as you're here, I'll be here too, watching over you."

If he couldn't live with Sirius, this was the next best thing. Harry flipped the envelope over and ran his thumb over the official wax seal of Hogwarts. Before he could break the seal and open the letter, his uncle stepped forward.

"Give it here boy," Vernon said menacingly. He held out his beefy hand expectantly. "I'm waiting."

"No," Harry met his uncle's stare with defiance.

"No?" Vernon was caught by surprised. The little freak was troublesome, a nuisance and an eyesore, but he never talked back. "What do you mean 'no'?" Vernon's face was red and he was starting to breathe heavily from the rage building within.

"It's my letter," Harry challenged. "It's addressed to me. See here? That's my name." Harry held the letter up to show where his name was written in wavy thick black ink.

"Boy," Vernon was fuming now, "you don't know what kind of trouble you're dealing with getting involved with anything to do with_ that_ place. Your aunt and I promised we'd stamp out all of that nonsense about you when we took you in. If you value the roof over your head, you'll give me that letter!"

Vernon reached for the envelope but Harry pulled it back too quickly. Instead, Vernon grabbed Harry by the shoulders and began to shake him violently. Harry closed his eyes as he was tossed around. There was a snarling growl.

"Ah!" Vernon's scream echoed out as he released Harry. "Damned dog, get off!"

Harry opened his eye to see his godfather firmly attached to his uncle's arm in a strong canine bite. The strength and the weight of the dog pulled Vernon to the ground.

"Get this bloody black beast off of me!" Vernon wailed, pleading for Harry to help him.

Harry only took a moment to watch the struggle before running as fast as he could away from Number 4. When Sirius saw that Harry was going to get away, he released his prey and took off after his godson. Harry ran to his spot in the park, never stopping or looking back. As he leaned against a tree to catch his breath, Sirius transformed from dog to man.

"You okay there Harry?" Sirius questioned the boy as he looked him over. Harry nodded his reply. "Well, I've got to say, I've wanted to do that for a while," Sirius laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

"What do I do now?" Harry asked with a lost expression.

"You open your letter," Sirius pointedly nodded to the still unopened envelope in Harry's hand. "Let me figure out what to do about Dursley."

Harry hesitated a moment to look over his first piece of mail one more time before breaking the seal and pulling out the two pages inside. There it was, handwritten by Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Harry's acceptance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The first page made note of a list of supplies he'd need. Taking a guess, he glanced at the second sheet to confirm it as the list mentioned, before returning to the first page. Then, as Harry reached the bottom of the letter, his heart sank.

_We await your owl by no later than July 31._

"Sirius!" Harry exclaimed. "It says I have to reply by owl today! The owl took off!" Harry shoved the letter in Sirius's face hoping he'd have an answer.

"Don't worry Harry," Sirius said, taking the letter and reading it himself. "We'll get you to London, and when you're there, you can send word to Hogwarts explaining why you couldn't reply sooner. Remember, Dumbledore is the one who left you here ten years ago. He understands your situation and I doubt he'll give up after only a single letter."

Harry calmed down with that, but his anxiety didn't fade completely. Sensing so, Sirius started on another one of his many stories from his days at Hogwarts. Over the last year, one of Harry's favorite topics was Animagi and Sirius loved to mess with Harry. Sirius distracted him with the awkward and sometimes painful process he and his friends went through as a young teens figuring out the transformation unaided. Eventually, Harry looked back down to his list.

"I wish you turned into a cat," Harry thought out loud. Catching himself, he explained. "If you were a cat, I could bring you with me."

"If I turned into a cat, I wouldn't have been much help earlier," Sirius laughed. "But I understand what you mean. I think I may have a way to see you while you're in school though. I've been thinking about that."

"Really?" Harry seemed excited for the first time since he read about the admission deadline.

"There's an old house we used back in our Hogwarts days. You can get there from Hogwarts grounds. It's not a perfect solution, but at least I'd be nearby. Once you're a third year, you'll be able to visit me on weekend trips to town."

Harry didn't like that he wouldn't see Sirius everyday anymore, but knowing he'd be close by was comforting. With his mind still on Hogwarts but his mood much lighter, Harry challenged Sirius to a game of cards.

"You're bluffing," Sirius told Harry several minutes later.

"How could you tell?" Harry huffed.

"You're not clearing your mind," Sirius reminded Harry. He tapped Harry's head. "There's too much going on in there. Remember, another player can read you like a book unless you can hide what you're thinking."

Sirius told him that before, and often. It was the first rule to poker, and being good a poker player made you a good Quidditch player.

"If your opponent can't read you, then you can out think him… and that could be the deciding factor in whether you win or lose." Sirius repeated himself for the hundredth time. "It's the same in Quidditch when you're trying to out fly the other team."

Harry put his cards down and focused. After a moment, he picked his cars back up and looked Sirius in the eyes.

"Better," Sirius commented, before getting back to the game.

They continued to play until it was too dark to see, and then settled in while Sirius told stories about his days at Hogwarts again.

"Lumos," Sirius cast out loud; his wand tip lighting up like a flashlight. "It's getting late. I know you don't want to go back, but…"

I don't ever want to go back," Harry interrupted. He moved to sit against the same tree as Sirius.

"I know you don't," Sirius whispered. "Honestly, I wish you didn't have to."

"Then why should I go?" Harry asked. Already knowing the answer Sirius would give, he added "there's magic there that protects me. I get it, but why can't magic protect me somewhere else…anywhere else?" His voice was pleading.

"Your family keeps you safe here," Sirius tried explaining. Honestly, it sounded ridiculous after the day they just had. "You're protected as long as you live in your aunt's home. She's your blood, your mum's sister. There are wards are on this property, the most powerful I've ever seen: magic that keeps you safe from any wizard who wishes to harm you. They come from that connection."

"If they're so strong," Harry was getting defensive, "then how could Uncle Vernon hurt me? How come you need to be here to protect me?"

"The wards," Sirius spoke softly, trying to settle Harry down, "they're made to keep dark wizards from finding you. Truthfully, I don't understand how they work, just that they do. I was never one for Runes or Arithmancy…those are branches of magic you can study at Hogwarts. I never cared much about creating wards as I did about getting around them…especially the one on the staircase leading to the girls' dorm" Sirius added. He couldn't help but try to make jokes when things got serious. "But I'll tell you how to get around that later…and there is a way, I promise. But that's the point isn't it? There's always a way. No matter how great the magic, there's always a way to overcome it. And that's why I'm here…no matter how well Dumbledore thinks you're guarded by the magic of your mum's sacrifice. He promised you'd be safe before. He was wrong then, we all were, but I won't let anyone make the same mistake again, not with you."

"You think Dumbledore's wrong for leaving me here?" Harry questioned. "You said Dumbledore was a great wizard. We can't trust him?"

"It's complicated," Sirius's brow creased as he gave his answer. "Dumbledore _is_ a great wizard Harry, the only wizard Voldemort ever feared. But sometimes even people with the best intentions can do you more harm than good." Sirius looked off into space for a moment, lost in the past. Catching himself, he looked back down to Harry and smiled his mischievous grin. "Except me of course… Everything I do is for your own good and should never be questioned."

Conversation went back to lighter subjects after that. Hours later, Sirius was in the middle of telling Harry about the time James waited to use a bubblehead charm until he was already under the water, when he saw that Harry was falling asleep. Casting a couple spells, he drifted off as well.

Harry woke up to the sound of a car alarm going off somewhere in the distance. He adjusted his glasses and squinted in the dark. He was still in the park. Curled up with him was a furry black dog.

"What time is it?" Harry asked his canine-shaped godfather.

The dog shook its fur before transforming again.

"It's morning," Sirius said while looking around and noticing the sun wasn't up, "_very_ early morning; probably a good time to get you home."

The look Harry gave Sirius said there was never a good time for that, but he held his tongue and got up.

"I'll walk you back," Sirius offered.

As it was still too early for most of the residents of Little Whinging to be up and about, Sirius took the chance to stretch his human legs. They were just turning onto Privet Drive from Wisteria Walk when a street lamp went dark. Sirius slowed his pace but continued walking. Then another light went out, and then another. Sirius pulled Harry off of the main road and crouched down behind a parked car. Soon every light was out along the street, from street lamps to porch lights, and they were left in darkness. Only the stars still illuminated Privet Drive. From out of the blackness, a low rumble was getting louder.

"What is it Sirius?" Harry asked quietly.

"Not sure," Sirius whispered back, "but it's definitely someone who knows magic. I want you to stay down. If anything happens, get on the broom and don't stop flying." Sirius said while he disillusioned Harry and enlarged the broom he had magically shrunk down to fit in his pocket.

Harry watched from his hiding place as Sirius transformed into his dog form and headed toward the sound. It was still getting louder, the sound. Soon it was a roar. At first Harry couldn't see anything, but then he made out a large black spot coming down from the sky. _What is that?_ Harry thought to himself. It was far too big to be an owl or someone riding on a broom. Whatever it was, it landed with a screech in front of Number 4. As Harry leaned in closer, a hand grabbed the back of his shirt, startling Harry. He put a hand over his own mouth to keep from crying out.

"There you are," Sirius grinned at Harry, turning him visible once more. "It's alright, I know the guy. Remember I said you didn't need to worry about the Hogwarts deadline? That's the answer to your prayers."

"What is it?" Harry asked. "It's huge. No way was that a guy on a broom."

"No," Sirius answered. "He wasn't flying a broom. It's a motorcycle, _my_ motorcycle. I let him borrow it years ago and never got around to getting it back. She's still working great by the sound of it."

"So he's a friend of yours," Harry summarized. "And he works at Hogwarts or something." Sirius nodded to Harry still grinning. Sirius always approved when Harry tried to work things out for himself. "So, then…does he know about you? Can he help us?"

"He's a good guy," Sirius explained. "Unfortunately the man is as blindingly trusting as he is trustworthy and can't keep a secret to save his life. But he'll look out for you, and you can count on him. Now come on, let's go greet the big teddy bear."

Shouting could be heard as Harry got closer to Number 4. _Great, Uncle Vernon's up._ Harry walked a little more cautiously, hoping to go unnoticed by his uncle for as long as possible. When Harry reached Number 2 Privet Drive, he was finally able to see Number 4 clearly. The yard was a mess. Owls and owl droppings covered the yard and anything a bird could use as a perch.

"Look at my house!" Harry could hear his uncle exclaim. "Hundreds of letters every hour, owls coming and going; what'll the neighbors think?"

Harry's uncle was a large man, wide and fat, but the man standing on the front doorstep, he was so large that he dwarfed Vernon Dursley in comparison. The man was so tall, it took Harry a moment to realize that the figure blocking the front doorway from view was in fact a man at all. _He must be three times taller than me! _Harry figured. And on closer inspection, he was shocked to see that the front door wasn't just opened, but it was completely smashed to bits. _Did the big guy do that?_ He definitely looked strong enough.

"It ain't nuthin' a quick cleanin' charm can't fix," The giant bellowed. "Now where's Harry? I haven't seen the boy since I brought'em to ya 10 years ago."

"You brought me here?" Harry surprised himself when he spoke up.

"Harry!" The huge man blocking the doorway turned, giving Harry a wide toothy smile, which stood out in contrast to his large, tangled beard. "The name's Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper o' the Keys at Hogwarts School fer Witchcraft an' Wizardry: the finest place to learn magic in all the world." Rubeus Hagrid bent down get a closer look at Harry. "Ya look just like yer dad at his age… 'cept for the eyes o'course, green as yer mum's, they are."

"You knew mum and dad?" Harry asked before thinking about it._ Of course he did. Sirius said he knew him, then dad would too. _"Mr. Hagrid, Sir" Harry added quickly. Harry made note that he was going to need to watch what he said. Hagrid and the Dursleys had no idea he knew of magic beyond the mentioning of it in the Hogwarts letter. Sirius had warned as much.

"Just call me Hagrid," He corrected. "I knew yer folks since way back. Two of the finest wizards there ever was."

"Wizards?" Harry asked, taking the opportunity to play along and possibly learn something more of his parents. "Uncle Vernon says there's no such thing." From the other side of Hagrid, Harry could see his uncle pale. Sirius pawed over to Harry's left, most likely to get a better view of the pending argument.

"No such thing!" Hagrid repeated out of surprise.

"Now see here!" Vernon found his voice again. "I told that old buffoon we wouldn't be taking that boy if any of this freakiness was involved!" Harry could see the lanky form of his Aunt Petunia nod in agreement, though she was still cowering from Hagrid.

"No one talks about Albus Dumbledore like tha' when I'm around!" Hagrid shouted at Vernon. Turning back to Harry, he added, "He's a great man, Dumbledore. You'll see fer yerself. He's the Headmaster o' Hogwarts, and the one who sent me fetchin' after ya."

"I won't have any…" Vernon began to demand, but he was cut off by the front door magically reassembling itself in front of him.

"Pipe down Dursley," Hagrid muttered at the closed door. Harry hadn't noticed before, but Hagrid was holding onto a pink umbrella. It was average in size, but looked small in Hagrid's hand, almost like a…

"Is that your wand," Harry asked while pointing to the umbrella. He quickly added, "Wizards have wands in stories," covering for his slip up.

"It is," Hagrid beamed at Harry. "You're a clever one, like yer mum… but," Hagrid leaned in close, "just keep tha' between you and me, I'm not supposed to be doin' magic."

"So who's this?' Hagrid said, changing the subject and pointing to the large dog.

_Who? Does he know Sirius is an Animagus?_ Harry panicked, looking back and forth between Sirius and Hagrid.

"I've got a dog meself," Hagrid boasted. "Name's Fang. Bigger than this fella here even… bit of a coward though."

Relieved, Harry said "This is my dog."

"Well of course he is." Hagrid laughed. "Anyone can tell tha' just by seein' how he sticks by ya. But what do ya call'em?"

"Well…" Harry stalled. He wasn't ready for this question. Sirius said his friends called him _Padfoot_ at Hogwarts, but he didn't know who might recognize the name. They had joked around with horrible names like 'Snuffles', but that was all. "Everyone just calls him 'that black dog'."

"Black Dog eh?" Hagrid replied with a laugh. "Well, no one can say the name don't fit."

Sirius barked for attention, as Hagrid shuffled around in the pockets of his coat.

"I have sumthin' fer ya," Hagrid said, as he pulled his hand out of his pocket. "It's yer letter. Tells ya yer accepted to Hogwarts. Has a list of what you'll be needin'."

Instead of taking the offered letter, Harry pulled out the one he had from before.

"I got the first one," Harry said, "but Uncle Vernon scared the owl off before I could reply back."

"Tha' so?" Hagrid said as he rested his large hand on Harry's tiny shoulder. "Then you'll be all set then?"

"Yeah," Harry started to say, but there was something he wasn't sure about. "But the list, I don't think I can get all of this stuff. I mean, Uncle Vernon doesn't seem too keen of me going in the first place."

"Right," Hagrid murmured, glancing back at the closed door. "Dumbledore thought tha' might be the case. He said I should take ya if it came to tha'. Sun's comin' up. If we leave now, we should be just in time fer shops openin' at Diagon Alley. That'll be the best place in all o' Britain fer wizarding supplies. Black Dog'll have to stay here though. What ya say?"

Harry smiled when Sirius barked in approval.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Since I'm new to fanfiction writing, I thought I would entice readers by getting the second chapter up right away. This chapter has a little more dialog, as I thought chapter one was lacking in that regard. Hopefully you don't see this as just a filler chapter (I'm doing my best to avoid that very thing).

**Next Chapter:** The wizards of London are starstruck when their savior returns to the world of magic. While Harry is busy shopping for cauldrons and quills, wizards in high places have different plans for The Boy Who Lived.

Update: I've re-edited this chapter, with improved phrasing and grammer (excluding anything that ever comes out of Hagrid's mouth).


	3. Chapter Three: Chasing the Lead

**Chapter 3: Chapter Three: Chasing the Lead**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the franchise of Harry Potter. The world and characters used in this story belongs to J.K. Rowling. Material has been altered to suit the needs of this fanfiction.

**Warning:** This story is rated M for strong language and graphic violence.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three:<strong>

**Chasing the Lead**

**...**

**London, August 1991**

Thanks to the magic of the motorcycle, the trip to London was a swift one. Harry was thankful for that. With not much else to talk about, Hagrid spent the flight telling Harry all about the basics of the magical world: which would have been informative to a Muggle raised child like himself if it weren't for Sirius. But Harry enjoyed the short talk anyway; Hagrid was only the second person he could remember being truly nice to him after meeting his family.

Harry assumed the bike had several charms placed on it. Once on the bike, the engine only gave a small hum instead of the loud roar he had heard before, allowing for conversation at a normal volume. Harry also didn't feel the wind on his face the same way he did when flying on Sirius's broom. From the way no one paid attention to the flying motorcycle as it landed on the crowded street of Charing Cross Road, in the heart of London, he guessed there was something Sirius called a _notice-me-not_ charm placed on it too.

Hagrid parked the bike along the street, but stopped Harry from getting out of the sidecar.

"There's sumthin' ya need to know before we go any farther," Hagrid said with a serious expression. "Yer special; believe me ya are. Years ago, when you were just a little fella, there was a terrible wizard runnin' around. Got so it wasn't safe to go outside no more. The night yer parents died, that dark wizard went after ya. He cast the worst spell a wizard can use at ya. But it didn't work, and instead ya beat'em… it's how ya got that scar there." Hagrid paused. "And…well, people are grateful. Yer a bit of a celebrity, and bein' that you've been gone fer so long… yer gonna draw a crowd if they recognize ya. Dumbledore thought I should prepare ya fer the greetin' ya might get… So, if yer ready, let's be headin' in. The way to Diagon Alley is through the Leaky Cauldron."

From the outside, the Leaky Cauldron was a tiny and rundown looking pub. Harry would have completely overlooked it if Hagrid hadn't pointed it out to him. On the inside, however, it was a crowded hub for the wizarding world. Harry wasn't sure, but the inside seemed much bigger than the outside store front would allow. There was a stairway to Harry's right, leading to a second floor banister that wrapped around the room, to the left there were three oversized fireplaces, and in the middle, several round tables scattered along the ground floor. In the back, there was a long bar with a row of fixed bar stools and a hallway leading to where Harry imaged the kitchen or bathrooms to be. The whole place was filled with wizard patrons eating their morning breakfast. Harry had never seen so many oddly dress adults in one place.

"Hey there Hagrid," a bald man from behind the bar spoke up over the crowd, "Get you somethin'?"

"Not today Tom," Hagrid said as he patted Harry on the back. "Got Hogwarts business, and Harry here's gettin' his wand."

"Great Merlin!" a nearby wheezing wizard exclaimed at the mention of Harry's name. "Could this be the young Harry Potter finally coming back to us?"

The occupants of the pub seemed to stare wide-eyed at Harry.

"It is!" said a short witch with long silvery hair. "Glad to meet you boy!"

She stood up from her seat to shake Harry's hand. As if opening a floodgate, it seemed the rest of the pub followed suit and completely surrounded Harry, attempting to be the next in line to greet him. Overwhelmed, Harry could only stick out his hand in silence.

"Alright you lot," Hagrid said kindly but loud enough to get everyone's attention. "Harry's got lots ta do, and it's best we be gettin' to it."

At that, the crowd made room for them to pass, but they continued to whisper while pointedly staring at Harry. Hagrid ushered Harry through the pub and started to guide him to the hallway in the back, when he suddenly stopped.

"Well," Hagrid said, turning to a man with his back facing them. "If ain't Professor Quirinus Quirrell! This fine gentleman is gonna be yer Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Harry. What're ya doin' in these parts professor?"

Harry was still in awe of the greeting he just received. He'd never been liked, much less popular, and all the attention was giving him a headache. But it was exciting to hear that he was meeting a professor for the first time. He took in the appearance of man before him, to see what a professor of magic looked like.

Professor Quirrell was dress in a large purple robe, much baggier that the black coat-like robe Sirius wore on most days. Hanging down the length of the robe was the tail of a long grey scarf that wrapped around his neck. With the man's back still turned, Harry could make out a thinning bald spot forming in the middle of Quirrell's light brown hair.

"Harry Potter," Quirrell said as he spun around in his bar stool, "N-nice to me-meet you."

"You too sir," Harry replied back while positioning for a handshake.

Quirrell looked down at the offered hand, then to his own; one hand was holding a glass, and the other was wrapped firmly around a large basket. He awkwardly attempted to shuffle around his drink, before giving up. Shrugging his shoulders, he gave Harry an apologetic grin, and then turned to answer Hagrid's question.

"I was p-picking up a p-package in town," Quirrell said, while glancing to the basket. The contents inside made it move around in his arm, "a little something for the upcoming year."

The lid of the basket rose slightly revealing a bit of smooth green scales brushing up against the inside.

"Somethin' fer class eh?" Hagrid's interest was piqued. "A creature to study; an ashwinder, or young dragon maybe?" Hagrid asked eagerly, and then to Harry said, "Always wanted one of those meself."

"It's b-best if I keep this under wraps for now," Quirrell said as Hagrid tried to lift the lid. "T-too many people around to let a d-dangerous creature run about."

"Right ya are professor," Hagrid said in agreement, but Harry could tell he was disappointed. "I'm pretty good wit' animals ya know. I've handled all sorts o' magical creatures. If yer be needin' a hand up at the school, just let me know."

Quirrell nodded politely to the offer.

"Looking f-forward to seeing you in class P-P-Potter," Quirrell stuttered out. "It should be an interesting year."

"Nice meeting you sir," Harry replied, before looking up at Hagrid expectantly.

"See ya back at Hogwarts professor," Hagrid said as he led Harry toward the hallway again. "Come on Harry. Yer gonna love this next part."

Hagrid guided Harry down the hallway and outside to a closed-in back alley. Pulling out his umbrella, Hagrid tapped several bricks on the wall and stood back. Each brick began to twist and fold until an archway was formed; beyond it was Diagon Alley. A wide and winding cobblestone street, Diagon was crammed with vendor carts and narrow shops, full of cauldrons, and crates. Strange aromas drew Harry's attention to a display on his right, where slimy and crawling things hung from the ceilings and liquid boiled and oozed from jars. Further ahead, a couple boys not much older than Harry had their noses pressed to the windows of _Quality Quidditch Supplies_.

"I see yer lookin' at the brooms," Hagrid pointed out. "Believe er not, wizards use'em ta fly. After a few lessons, I bet ya'll turn out to be a real pro. Yer dad was a natural."

Harry smiled, thinking about all the time he'd already spent on a broom. Harry considered himself a capable flyer, but with the way Sirius kept him at it, he figured he was a long way off from being a "pro".

"First things first," Hagrid said. "We'll head to Gringotts to take care of some business and to stop by yer vault, and then we can start on that list o' yers and do some window shoppin'."

Sirius had warned Harry about Gringotts Wizarding Bank. Found in the heart of magical London, at the bustling intersection of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, Gringotts was a bank ran by goblins. Goblins, Sirius had explained, were a short, pointy race of highly intelligent magical beings. Often unfairly treated by wizards, the goblins became very untrusting, making their brutal tendencies all that more dangerous to any wizard who broke the laws of the bank.

_Make eye contact. Be direct. Learn their names. Don't touch anything unless told to do so. _Harry recited his mantra repeatedly in his head as they walked.

Gringotts was stunning. In the middle of the tight rows of notched out wizarding shops, stood a giant marble edifice, with towering columns that framed a long wide stairway leading to two bronze doors. Two guards, dressed in silver plated armor, stood on either side. They were no taller than Harry, but much broader than an average adult wizard, with long arms that hung past their knees. A crooked nose and two pointed ears protruded from their helmets; these guards were goblins. Even with Sirius's warning, Harry couldn't get over seeing real life fairytale creatures for the first time.

Harry walked closer to Hagrid as they passed the guards and entered the bank. Much like the outside, the interior was made of marble. The main hall was circular. Off from the main hall, were other corridors littered with more doors than Harry could count. A dozen goblins, dressed in suit and tie, sat behind tall counters spread around the hall, blocking access to the corridors. Another two armored guards, like the ones outside, marched the hall, eyeing each wizard visitor for signs of dubious intent.

Hagrid went up to one of the goblins who stopped writing in a large ledger when he approached.

"Looks like ya stepped up security since the last I came 'round," Hagrid said to the goblin. He waved his hand toward the guards.

"There is no facility more secure than Gringotts," the goblin spat in offense. When the goblin noticed Hagrid wasn't going away, he spoke again. His annoyance with Hagrid was plain to see. "May I help you with something?" the goblin question.

"Ah… Rubeus Hagrid," Hagrid stated, "on business fer Albus Dumbledore, an' Harry James Potter to visit the vault his parents left'em."

The goblin peered down at Harry from over the top of his counter. He smiled a sharp toothy grin.

"I see," the goblin said as he climbed down from his high perch. "I am Griphook. I will escort you to your vaults. I take it you have your key?"

The goblin directed his question to Harry, but Hagrid reached into his pocket and produced a thick gold key from his robes before Harry could answer. Griphook took the key and briskly walked down one of the long corridors, opened a door and waited for both Harry and Hagrid to step inside.

The room was dark, lit only by torch light hanging against rock walls. Griphook removed one of the torches and ushered Harry and Hagrid into a cart sitting in the middle of the room. Without warning, the cart speed off down a twisting track. It traveled too fast for Harry to make out many details but he could tell he was traveling downward through a deep cavern beneath the bank building and possibly all of Diagon Alley.

As quickly as the trip began, however, the cart stopped at vault 713. The goblin climbed out of the cart and ran his hand down the black metal door of the vault, magically opening it. Harry peeked to see what was inside, but it was bare except for a single small package. Stepping out of the cart, Hagrid pocketed the brown paper wrapped item, and both he and the goblin returned to their seats before the cart took off once more.

Again, Harry was sped off to another vault. He was sure they were moving upwards this time. So, he assumed they were closer to the surface than they were at vault 713. From where the cart was resting on the track, Harry could see a deep cliffside without bottom. A flash of light came from somewhere below and Harry looked down to see what it was.

"_Dragons_," Griphook said, getting Harry's attention. "We're here."

Harry turned to see the vault was already open. Within it, there were large piles of gold coins and stacks of slightly smaller silver coins. _Galleons _and_ Sickles_, Sirius had called them.

"This is mine?" Harry questioned. He'd never had two pence to rub together. "How much do I need to take with me?"

Harry stood back as Griphook helped Hagrid do the math. He couldn't help wonder if there was enough money there to escape the Dursleys forever. Perhaps he could turn it into Muggle money, and then Sirius and he could buy a house somewhere.

_Maybe when Sirius is free, _Harry thought_. He said someday he'd prove himself innocent and take me with him._

Griphook placed a bag in Harry's hands, stirring him from his day dream. After pocketing the coins, they all climbed back into the cart and returned to the surface, and Hagrid led Harry out of the bank.

There were more wizards shopping now. It had been nearly an hour since Harry first entered Diagon Alley. As Hagrid guided him to one of the more reputable street peddlers to look over luggage, Harry once again noticed wizards staring at him and whispering as they passed by.

"Now that we got yer trunk," Hagrid began to say to Harry, as he carried the large item under one arm, "we can get the rest o' yer stuff ta fill it."

Harry grew more nervous of the onlookers as he headed out of Scribbulus Everchanging Inks. A group of three middle-aged witches were huddled outside the doorway eying him, and they followed several steps back as he walked. They weren't the only one's troubling Harry either. He was sure he saw the same pudgy man in pink striped robes at the last three stores he'd entered, and a number of window shoppers at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions paid much more attention to his robe selections than the displays. Fortunately, Hagrid caught onto the growing crowd and stood guard when Harry entered Flourish & Blott's.

Finally able to shop without an audience, Harry took his time perusing the store's selection of books. He had already retrieved everything on his school list, placed them in a carrying basket, and was walking the isles as he skimmed over different titles. It was while he flipped through _Beating the Bludgers-A Study of Defensive Strategies in Quidditch, _when he ran into something that crashed to the floor with a _thud_.

"Ow," said a tiny voice at Harry's feet.

A small girl in a yellow summer dress was sprawled out on the floor. She was young and cute, with waist length sandy blonde hair and large saucer shaped eyes that betrayed her otherwise calm visage.

"Oh!" Harry exclaimed as he tucked the book he was reading under his arm and helped the girl up. "I should've watched where I was going; I'm sorry."

"It's quite alright," The girl said. "Mum says you never know who you'll bump into in Diagon Alley. So, I was prepared for it to happen at some point."

"Uh…right," Harry said, thinking that the girl was taking her mother a bit too literally, "sorry all the same." Harry looked away from her in embarrassment; he wasn't used to talking with other children his own age.

There was an opened book on the ground; the girl must have been reading it before the collision. It was the cover that caught Harry's attention. It was large and brightly colored with a drawing of a cartoon rabbit on the front: a children's book. Harry thought back to the times when he was younger, when he would hide just out of sight and listen to the stories his aunt would read to Dudley.

"My favorite is _The Fountain of Fair Fortune_," The girl said when Harry handed her the book back. "Do Hogwarts students have to do much reading?" She pointedly looked at Harry's basket of books.

"Not sure really," Harry answered the girl, "haven't started yet. Do you think we might?"

"I don't know," she said, "I still have another year to go, but there was another girl in here earlier who seemed quite frantic about it. She didn't think she was prepared even though she'd read all of the assigned course books. She walked out of here with a huge stack of ones she hadn't read yet."

Harry glanced down at his pile of books. There was no way he'd be able to read them all before school began.

"I tried to help," the girl said, "but I don't think she liked my choices." She quickly added, "I'm pretty sure she's a Muggle-born," as if that explained why.

Harry had spent his whole life in the Muggle world as well. _Maybe she knows something about the wizarding world I don't_, Harry thought to himself. _If she knows a book that could help, I should listen._

"If you have any suggestions that could help me," Harry began, "I'd appreciate it."

"Sure," the girl smiled. "This is a good one," she said, handing the book she was holding back to Harry, "_The Tales of Beedle the Bard_. The other first year didn't think it would help because it was written for children, but I think that's why it's such a great choice."

Harry's look of confusion provoked the girl to continue, "Obviously children's books must be the most important stories to know. Otherwise, why would parents choose them, out of all the others, to read to you first?"

Harry nodded his head. There was some logic to the girl's idea, a strange irrational logic.

"Thanks," Harry said as he put the offered book in his basket. He would be able to put it back sometime when the girl wasn't looking. "I'm Harry, by the way."

"Yes," she said without batting an eye, "Harry Potter, I know. I would have told you to read one of those over there if I didn't." She pointed to a section of books with the title _The Boy Who Lived _written above it. As Harry went over to take a closer look, she added, "I'm Luna Lovegood."

Harry was about to respond to her introduction, but then he read the titles of the books; _Harry Potter and Angry Dragon, Harry Potter and the Howling Werewolf, Harry Potter and the Hidden Cockatrice_, the list went on.

"These are about me?" Harry, not for the first time that day, found himself in complete surprise. "But I didn't do any of these things!"

"Really?" a disappointed Luna asked. "A friend of mine will be very upset to hear that. You're her favorite."

"I don't even know what a _cockatrice_ is," Harry replied, not really liking the idea of being someone's _favorite_.

"They aren't real," Luna explained, "some wizards a long time ago found the remains of several animals and mistook them for the remains of a single magical creature. Father says wizards still hunt for proof of their existence to this day. It's rather silly."

Harry had to agree, chasing after nonexistent creatures was_ silly_.

"I mean," Luna's face brighten as she spoke, "with all of the magical beings we've yet to discover, why waste time on something that isn't real?"

Harry just gave a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders in response; much of the wizarding world was still unknown to him, including magical creatures.

"Luna," a woman called from the front of the shop, and waved the girl over.

"That's my mum," Luna said, as she made to leave. "I've got to go."

"Nice to meet you," Harry said back.

"It was good to meet you as well," she responded. "Happy birthday; I know it was yesterday. I'm sorry I didn't get you anything."

"That's okay," Harry said as he watched the girl run off to her mother.

_What an odd girl_. Harry smiled at the conversation he just had. The girl was nearly his age and they got along fine, even if the topics discussed were a little out of the ordinary. He'd never be able to carry on with someone like that back in Little Whinging. Harry paid for his books and headed outside. With the idea of possibly having real friends fresh on his mind, Harry thought,_ I could really get used to living in the wizarding world_.

Several bursts of bright light blinded Harry as he exited the book shop.

Shouts of "Potter!" and "Harry!" came from all sides from several different voices. Questions were thrown out so fast, he couldn't tell what anyone was actually saying.

"Harry," a much closer and much more familiar voice said.

"Hagrid," Harry said as he covered his eyes, "What's going on?"

"Looks like the press knows yer here," Hagrid said in a hushed tone. "Best we be gettin' on to Ollivander's before things get out a' hand."

Hagrid put Harry's new purchases inside his trunk, and then used his massive body to create a path for escape from the sea of wizards.

"Go on Harry," Hagrid said, as he pushed Harry through the doors of the wand shop.

Hagrid shut the door behind him and held the door knob so no one could follow.

"I'll…" Hagrid paused as he looked back to the rattling door, "I'll just wait here, I think."

Harry walked into what looked like a waiting room. An old worn couch and cushioned chairs circled an antique cat-pawed coffee table. By the far wall, there was a counter and a closed-curtained door behind it. A display, next to a tall fireplace, held wands suspended in midair. Beside each wand was a photo of a wizard or witch whom Harry presumed was the previous owner of each wand. The quiet of Ollivander's was a sharp contrast to the noisy scene outside; the silence was eerie.

Harry approached the counter and hit the bell resting on top of it. No sound came from it. Backing away a bit, Harry looked into to the glass front of the counter. Inside were an assortment of leather holsters and boxes labeled "repair kit".

"Take care of your wand Mr. Potter and it will take care of you."

Harry jumped away from surprise. Behind the counter, was an old man, skinny and wrinkled, with grey hair sticking out in all directions from his head.

"I'm here to buy a wand," Harry meekly said to the man, holding out his Hogwarts items list.

"Of course you are," The man's voice was kind, but his eyes held a fascination that sent chills down Harry's spine. "I'm Garrick Ollivander, proprietor of Ollivander's. I've been expecting you. Now, come with me to the back."

Ollivander headed through the curtain without another glance. Harry hesitated for a moment, debating whether he should bring Hagrid with him, but decided he was better off with Hagrid guarding the door. As he passed through the curtains, his felt cold as if opening a freezer door, but the feeling quickly passed. Ollivander noticed Harry's confusion.

"What you felt were privacy wards," Ollivander explained, "Keeps people from snooping around too much. Wandcraft is a sacred art, and wand selection is a deeply personal experience… Now then, hold your arms out."

Harry did as asked while Ollivander flicked his wand to magically use a cloth tape measurer on him. Looking around the new room, Harry noticed this was a warehouse of sorts, with rows and rows of shelves, all holding stacks of small thin boxes.

"Does this help me get a wand?" Harry asked, not sure what was going on.

"A wand must know everything about you before you can be chosen Mr. Potter," Ollivander explained. "No two wands are exactly alike, much like the wizards who use them." Ollivander started walking down the rows of wands, occasionally slowing down to take a better look at the boxes. "Wands are made of two parts, the body and the core. Many substances can be used for either part, and the results are always different, even if only slightly."

Ollivander stopped and pulled a box from a shelf on his right.

"Here," he said, opening the box and handing the wand from inside to Harry, "mahogany, like your father's; dragon heartstring. Wave it and see how it feels."

"You remember my father's wand?" Harry was interested in knowing anything he could about his parents.

"It was excellent for transfiguration," Ollivander recalled. "Your mother's was willow, good for charms work, but I'd say you don't have an affinity for the wood."

Harry waved the wand, causing the tip to burst into flames. Ollivander grabbed it quickly and put the fire out with his robes. He then put the wand back and continued down the rows with a wide-eyed Harry in tow.

"All wizards possess a similar power over magic," Ollivander continued to educate Harry as if a combusting wand was nothing unusual, "but our ability to wield the branches of magic… some are more gifted than others."

"Branches of magic?" Harry was not following the discussion well.

"I thought you might not understand," Ollivander said while looking down at Harry. "The way you're dressed… may I be bold enough to ask if you were raised as a Muggle?" Harry gave a nod. "Then allow me to explain further. Transfiguration, Enchantment, Conjuration and Summoning; these are the basic branches. All wielded magic can be placed in one of these four categories. As wizards mature, most find they exceed in one branch over the others… or in a particular form of magic found within the four…Now, I want to try something." Ollivander handed Harry another wand. "Ash with a runespoor scale core."

Harry gripped the wand tightly and pointed it down the aisle of shelves. A green spark shot from the end and spiraled several feet forward before exploding with a hiss.

"Much better!" Ollivander exclaimed. "I think we're onto something with that one. Let's head towards the back. I have another wand I want you to try… It's in my workshop."

Harry gagged at the site of Ollivander's workshop. Entrails and animal hides hung from the ceiling, and strange animal heads, the likes of which Harry had never seen before, were mounted on the walls. Ollivander passed giant stacks of wood, chopped and sorted by size and color, and headed for a small work bench. He glanced back at Harry, before dragging out a dusty trunk from underneath the bench. He bent down, using a key from around his neck to open it. There was a pile of wand boxes inside, much older looking than any on the shelves in the warehouse.

"This," Ollivander said, referring to a wand he pulled from the trunk, "could do."

Ollivander held the wand handle out. Harry lifted his hand to reach, but before he got close enough to touch it, the wand shot out of Ollivander's hand and into his own. A warm glow enveloped Harry as he gripped the wand.

"Of course," Ollivander clapped his hands excitedly, "this would be the wand for you. It makes perfect sense after all."

"How so?" Harry's eyes never left the wand; it felt like a natural extension of his hand.

"Its brother belonged to the dark wizard who gave you that scar," Ollivander said, pointing to Harry's forehead.

"Voldemort had its _brother_?" Harry asked, his eyebrows shooting above his hairline.

"Indeed Mr. Potter," Ollivander answered. He smiled at Harry's use of Voldemort's name. "The wand you hold possesses a feather of a phoenix. This is rare in of itself, but it was not the only feather gathered from this particular magical bird. One other feather was placed in a wand, making that wand the brother to the one you hold. Interesting that you should have an affinity for the brother wand of the wizard you defeated as a baby. I would be most interested in how the other wand would respond to you.'

"The Dark Lord was not a patient child. When he came to me in his youth, his wand reacted much the same way yours did for you. I thought perhaps the wand you hold might form an even stronger connection. I did not have the large warehouse I do now, and many of my family's wands were stored in Gringotts. This was one of them. He would not wait, and now I am left without an answer."

Harry looked down at his wand.

"Does this mean Voldemort and I are alike?" There was fear in Harry's question.

"In many ways your magic is most similar," Ollivander whispered. "You will surely grow to be a powerful wizard Harry Potter. What you do with that power is up to you."

Ollivander led Harry back to the front of the store, where Harry was to pay. On the way, Ollivander told Harry the rules concerning the use of his wand.

"Remember," He told Harry, "you are classified as an underage wizard. This means that you are not permitted to use your wand off school grounds, and there is a charm in place that lets the Ministry of Magic know if you do. Even when you become an adult, you still are not allowed to perform magic in the presence of Muggles."

Harry nodded his head to show he understood, and then went for his bag of coins so he could pay. Needing both hands to sort through the bag, Harry tried to find a place on his person to keep his wand. He looked toward Ollivander for guidance.

"May I suggest a wand holster?" Ollivander asked while tapping pointedly on his counter. "They protect the wand from damage and accidental casting. I think a waist holster would work best, given your size."

Harry paid for both the wand and holster, and allowed Ollivander to magically fit the holster securely onto his person. With a wand, Harry finally began to feel like a real wizard: just like Sirius Black.

When Harry reached Hagrid, reality sunk back in. Hagrid was still holding onto the front doorknob and he had a worried expression on his face. When he saw Harry, he plastered on a fake smile.

"Harry," Hagrid said with a false exuberance, "got yer wand then?"

"Are people outside still wanting to take my picture?" Harry asked, ignoring the question.

"It's a bit worse than tha' now," Hagrid said, peering over his shoulder toward the door. "The word got out. There's quite a bit more wizardin' folks out there to see ya… I think it might be best to just get it over with an' make a run fer it."

Harry readied himself and Hagrid opened the door, but they were unable to get away from the crowd. Screams of cheer were shouted out, and camera flashes continually went off.

"Thank you everyone," a new voice yelled out over the crowd. "Please save questions for the end."

The crowd was gathered a few feet away, blocked off in a semicircle by wizards in tight fitting grey uniform robes. Several members of the crowd were holding cameras with large flash bulbs, continually taking pictures, and nearly as many wizards were holding notepads with quills magically scribbling on them. _Reporters_, Harry guessed.

Hagrid stood behind Harry with a protective hand resting on the boy's shoulder. To his left was the latest speaker. He was a portly man wearing a green pinstriped cloak which was opened up to show a solid mud-brown suit. As he spoke to the crowd, he gestured wildly with the bowler hat held in his hand.

"Wizards and witches," the man began, "For the last 10 years, your Ministry of Magic has kept order and peace, bringing a golden age to wizarding kind. But days were not always so bright. In a time of chaos…before my own appointment to the position of Minster for Magic…one boy, with the aid of his ministry, was able to defeat the terrorist dark wizard, You-Know-Who. And today that boy has come back to us. I, Cornelius Fudge, present to you the return of Harry Potter."

"Minister!" one of the reporters called out above the clapping, "Will Harry Potter attend Hogwarts this fall?"

"As you can see," Fudge waved his hand toward Harry and Hagrid, "young Harry has been busy buying supplies for that very thing. Just now, he's purchased his wand!"

"oohs" and "aahs" were murmured throughout the crowd.

"Go on," Fudge urged Harry, "Give the crowd a show!"

Fudge motioned with his hand for Harry to wave his wand. Harry looked up and over his shoulder to question Hagrid with his eyes, only to get a shrug as a response. For lack of any spells and not knowing what else to, Harry drew his wand. Another flash from a camera went off just as Harry gave the wand a flick, and the camera made a popping sound, and smoke began to rise out of the camera. As shouting began anew, another wizard was let through the barricade.

He was a regal looking man with sharp features and pale blonde hair tied behind his head with a single black ribbon. He walked with the use of a cane, though his graceful stride showed he did not need it.

"Lord Malfoy," Fudge addressed the newcomer, "so glad you could join us."

Lord Malfoy acknowledged Fudge with the merest tilt of his head before introducing himself to Harry.

"I am Lucius Malfoy," He said as he bowed, "Lord of the Noble House of Malfoy. Handling the press can be daunting; I believe I may be of some service to you."

"Harry," Harry replied awkwardly, "Harry Potter."

Lucius Malfoy turned ever so slightly to better position himself for the photographers. To the side, Fudge tried to squeeze himself into frame.

Again, reporters yelled questions over each other. Harry gladly allowed Malfoy to do the talking. His answers were direct, to the point and always followed with a smile, until one reporter's question silenced the others.

"With your past ties to the Dark Arts, what connection do you share with The Boy Who Lived?"

The question was obviously meant as a slight to his character, but Malfoy's only sign of displeasure was a small pause before answering, "I believe the gentleman reporter from the Quibbler is referring to the most unfortunate events of 10 years ago, when I found myself victim to the powers of You-Know-Who. My connection to the young Mr. Potter is that it is he who freed me… and many other upstanding citizens of the wizarding world… from under the spell of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

With a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder, he added, "I believe it is now time for Mr. Potter to take his leave, as I am sure this day has been a most tiring ordeal." Turning to Hagrid, he quietly suggested, "Perhaps accessing the Floo Network through Ollivander's would serve Mr. Potter best? The Magical Law Enforcement Squad should keep the press at bay."

Hagrid and Minister Fudge followed Harry and Lord Malfoy into the waiting room of Ollivander's, where Ollivander himself was still behind the front counter working. Harry wasn't sure what the Floo Network was, but it seemed that it was a way out.

"Let's see what we can do to get you safely home," Malfoy said to Harry, "I have a boy of my own. He'll be starting Hogwarts this year as well, and I feel it's my duty to aid any future friend of his any way I can." Addressing the old wand-maker, he said, "Mr. Ollivander, we need to borrow your Floo connection for Mr. Potter's escape."

"Hold on Malfoy," Hagrid interjected, "I have strict orders from Dumbledore ta keep Harry wit' me."

"Then by all means," Malfoy answered Hagrid with an annoyed drawl, "join Harry in the fireplace."

"Well," Hagrid rocked on his footing as he spoke, "I can't fit through the connection, ya see…makes gettin' around difficult."

Exasperated, Malfoy took a deep breath before speaking, "Then perhaps you should leave for the Leaky Cauldron now, and Harry can meet you there in a moment when Minister Fudge and I send him through the Floo." Hagrid appeared as if he would object, so Malfoy added, "Unless you wish to take him back into that sea madness…"

"Alright," Hagrid answered, and headed back toward the front door. "It'll only take a couple minutes Harry. I'll be waitin' for ya on the other side."

Once Hagrid was gone, Fudge was the first to speak.

"The Quibbler doesn't seem to be a fan of yours Lord Malfoy," Fudge provoked Malfoy with a smile.

"No," Malfoy said, "Xeno's paper continues to hound my every move and interfere with my business endeavors. It's become quite a problem as of late." Malfoy glanced toward Harry, and Fudge followed his line of sight. "Unfortunately, once accused of a crime, proven innocence is not enough for some people."

Harry was reminded of Sirius. He too was accused of a crime he did not commit. Would the wizarding world still hold the deaths of Harry's parents over Sirius's head, even if he was proven innocent?

"Minister," Malfoy spoke in the friendly voice he had used when dealing with the press, "with reporters so eager for news of The Boy Who Lived, do you think they would be interested in the Ministry's active role in Mr. Potter's safety?"

"Yes," Fudge answered in a calculating tone, "I should let the wizarding world know that the Ministry protects its allies…very good Lord Malfoy." Turning to Harry, he added, "The Ministry is always willing to lend a helping hand to our friends Mr. Potter."

Minister Fudge hurriedly left to talk to the horde of reporters, leaving only Ollivander, Malfoy and Harry in the room. Harry was grateful for Malfoy's suggestion to Fudge; he did not like the Minister's glee over the press one bit.

After Ollivander and Malfoy exchanged pleasantries, Malfoy guided Harry toward the fireplace and Ollivander grabbed a bag and brought it to them.

"This is Floo powder," Ollivander said as he opened the bag to show a green sandy substance. "It allows a wizard to travel through a fireplace via the Floo Network and instantaneously travel to any other fireplace also connected to the network." He took a bit of sand out and poured it into Harry's hands. "Now, throw the powder at the flames and yell 'the Leaky Cauldron, Diagon Alley'. Be sure to say it nice and clear, then jump into the fire."

"Have you never used the Floo before?" Malfoy asked curiously.

"No sir," Harry answered.

"He was raised by Muggles," Ollivander explained.

"Muggles?" Malfoy asked in shock. Regaining his composure, Malfoy questioned, "Is it really safe for you to stay in such a place?"

"Hagrid says Headmaster Dumbledore has protections for me there," Harry said, leaving out that he was also protected by the presence of his godfather. Ollivander gave Harry a little shove toward the fire to prompt Harry to throw the Floo powder. "The Leaky Cauldron, Diagon Alley," Harry yelled, and cast the powder into the flame.

The flame burned emerald. With a glance to Ollivander for confirmation, Harry closed his eyes and leapt into the fireplace. He heard the beginnings of Malfoy protesting his departure, but the sound was cut off as he felt his entire body free fall. Moments later, Harry tumbled to the ground and was once again bombarded by the sounds of the Leaky Cauldron.

"There you are Harry," Hagrid's booming voice rang out. "Let's go before too many people notice."

Harry didn't need to look around to know all eyes were already on him and the biggest man in the room, but he remained quiet. Luckily, they made their exit without problem and were soon flying back to Little Whinging.

"Wha did ya think o' Diagon Alley?" Hagrid asked, as they were flying over a hundred feet in the air.

"It was…" Harry searched for the right words, _amazing, scary,_ "overwhelming really. Gringotts and the cart ride, Mr. Ollivander, it was like a dream, but the reporters…I really don't like all the attention."

"I understand," Hagrid said, "I had problem wit'em meself back in me younger days; didn't work out so well fer me neither… but wait til ya get ta Hogwarts. Things'll be better there. If nothin' else, ya'll get away from them Dursleys; tha can't be too bad o' thing."

That was true. For all the attention the wizarding world gave Harry, it beat his treatment at Privet Drive. But there was one thing still bothering him: Sirius. Meeting Sirius Black was the best thing to ever happen to Harry, and even though Hogwarts would take him away from the Dursleys, it also meant he wouldn't get to see Sirius as often either.

"Yeah," Harry said without much sincerity.

"What's wrong?" Hagrid noted Harry's lack of excitement, and it worried him. "Thought ya didn't care much fer them Dursleys."

"I don't," Harry tried to explain what he was feeling without exposing Sirius. "The Dursleys are horrible, but I don't want to leave my dog… he's all I've got, and worse, I'm all he's got. When I'm gone, he'll be alone again and no one else will look after him."

That much was true. Even if Sirius followed Harry to Hogwarts and hid in the nearby spot he had mentioned, they still wouldn't see each other, and Harry was the only one who could know Sirius was there.

"Ya really love yer dog," Hagrid needlessly stated. It was easy to see that he had a soft spot when it came to animals. "I know dogs can't come ta Hogwarts wit students, but I'll see wha I can do ta make sure Black Dog's alright during the school year."

The ride was a quiet one after that, both wizards deep in thought. It wasn't until Harry started noticing familiar streets that Hagrid spoke again.

"We're gettin' close," he said. "I can come inside wit ya ta make sure the Dursleys don't cause ya no trouble."

"Actually," Harry replied, "there's a park up ahead. If you drop me off there, I can see Black Dog, and then I can walk back to the house. They don't like magic, and it might be better if they don't see you flying the motorcycle again."

"Probably fer the best," Hagrid agreed, "an' while we're on the subject… maybe I should collect ya when it's time ta leave fer Hogwarts? Not sure if them Dursleys can be trusted to get ya to the train."

Harry nodded and gave Hagrid an appreciative smile. _That's one less thing to worry about._

As soon as they landed, Black Dog came running out to greet them. Hagrid pulled his pink umbrella from his robes and shrunk Harry's school supplies to fit easily in the palm of his hand, saying that the charm wasn't very powerful and would wear off in an hour or so. With a pat on Black Dog's head, and a wave goodbye, Hagrid was back on the motorcycle and off into the sky. When he was sure Hagrid could no longer see them, Black Dog once again transformed into Sirius Black.

"So Harry," Sirius said while hugging his godson, "how was Diagon Alley?"

Harry spent the next several minutes filling Sirius in on the flight, the bank and the growing crowd.

"They were all over you?" Sirius questioned. "I've got to say I didn't think about that. It certainly makes sense though. You'll need to be extra careful." Sirius could tell the attention from the press bothered Harry, so he changed the subject. "So, now that you have a wand…" He smiled as Harry's face lit up at the mentioning of it. "Do you want to learn some magic?"

'But I can't do magic outside of school," Harry said, remembering Ollivander's warning. "There's a charm and everything."

"You let me worry about that," Sirius said. "There are ways to deal with the_ Trace_."

Sirius walked around Harry, looking him over.

"I guess what you're wearing will do today," Sirius said, "but from now on I want you to practice in your school uniform. If you're going to learn to cast like a proper wizard, you need to learn how to move in wizarding robes.'

"Now, let's start with the basics. To preform magic, your teachers are going to show you proper incantations and wand movement. I can show you those easy enough. The difficult part is visualizing what you want to do, and willing you magic to make it happen."

Sirius stopped to see if Harry was still following along.

"The first spell they'll teach you is the Levitation Charm. There's a good reason for that; it's easy to visualize. But it still requires the will to make the object float before you'll be able to cast the spell properly. This is why we aren't going to start with the Levitation Charm."

"What spell am I going to learn?" Harry asked, immediately regretting the question when Sirius's smile turned nearly sinister.

"Well," Sirius said, drawing his own wand, "I was thinking we'll start with the Repelling Charm; incantation is _Repello_. It's a rather handy spell. It's meant to allow you to keep things from going anywhere near your target, but I'm going to teach you how to magically repel something so that it doesn't hit you."

"This sounds a lot like Bludger training," Harry said, positive the exercise wasn't going to be as fun as Sirius made it out to be.

'Yes it does," Sirius said, grinning even wider, "only this time you don't get to duck… Now hand me your wand so I can take care of that tracking charm."

When Harry withdrew his wand from his holster, Sirius nodded approvingly.

"What's it made of?" Sirius asked as he took a hold of it.

"Phoenix feather core," Harry recalled what Ollivander had told him about the wand. "The body is yew, 13 ½ inches."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: For those of you who commented on my story, Thanks for the reviews! Trust me when I say your advice is welcome and appreciated. Feel free to pick my story apart. This one was a long chapter. Based on what I have so far, I think chapter 2 will be around the normal chapter length for this story.

The wand choice was on purpose, and yes, that was Luna's mum...very much alive.

**Next Chapter:** Sirius has plans for Harry before he leaves for school.


	4. Chapter Four: Last Dog Days of Summer

**Chapter 4: Chapter Four: Last Dog Days of Summer**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the franchise of Harry Potter. The world and characters used in this story belongs to J.K. Rowling. Material has been altered to suit the needs of this fanfiction.

**Warning:** This story is rated M for strong language and graphic violence.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four:<strong>

**Last Dog Days of Summer **

…

**Magnolia Park, August 1991**

Wind rustled leaves and creaked chains of a swing, as two unflinching wizards stood opposite each other with their wands drawn. A sharp green gaze stared defiantly at the opponent's cool grey, and a lone lime green tennis ball rolled to a stop, to join a dozen others scattered across the clearing of Magnolia Park.

"To be completely honest with you," Sirius said to Harry as they faced each other down, "the spell I've taught you… your professors at Hogwarts would say I've shown you the improper way to cast it. The true Repelling Charm is a complicated spell, with intricate wand movements. The bastardized _Repello_ I'm having you cast is the standard rookie mistake most wizards make when they first attempt the spell. The short flick causes your target to deflect away from you. The end result is more like a poor man's Banishing Charm."

"Why am I learning the wrong way to cast a spell?" Harry was frustrated and his glare deepened. "I've never used a wand before, and you've been teaching me the wrong way to use it?"

"It's like I told you," Sirius smirked at Harry's attitude, "The wand movement is minimal and the effect is easy to visualize… plus it can be pretty useful. If the spell works and you can get the same results every time you cast it, then it's a good spell."

Just as Harry let his guard down from listening to Sirius's lecture, Sirius silently banished a brightly colored tennis ball toward the boy.

"_Repello!_" Harry shouted only an instant before the ball collided with his forehead.

"See," Sirius laughed, "If you would have cast the spell the way I taught you, the ball would have missed!"

They had been at it for hours. After showing Harry the proper wand movement and incantation, Sirius had conjured several tennis balls; then, one by one, Sirius banished them at Harry. In the beginning, Harry's first reaction was to move out of the way, but a quick flick of Sirius's wand left Harry's feet firmly stuck to the ground with a Sticking Charm. Unable to move, Harry was forced to cast a spell or get hit. As with Harry's flying and dodging practice, the more Harry improved, the more difficult Sirius made the exercise. Only half a dozen tennis balls in, Harry pulled off his first accurate spell. Now Sirius was working on timing by alternating the speed of the projectiles, causing distractions and casting silently at Harry.

"Pop Quiz," Sirius suddenly said. "Tell me the fastest way to get a snack at Hogwarts after curfew on a Friday."

"Huh?" Harry mumbled as Sirius flicked his wand. "_Repello_," Harry shouted at the last minute, deflecting the banished ball.

Harry was proud of himself for focusing past Sirius's blatant distraction. He was tempted to answer the question as well just to be cheeky. Sirius told stories about the ins and outs of Hogwarts enough that Harry felt fairly confident he could navigate his way even though he'd never been there himself. From Sirius's tales, it seemed that the Marauders; Prongs, Moody, Padfoot and the traitorous Wormtail spent more time studying the castle than their text books.

"Good work Harry," Sirius said after banishing two tennis balls in quick succession. "You're getting the hang of it. I think I'll show you one more spell and then we should call it a day." Sirius used his wand to gather all of the conjured balls together.

"Now listen up," Sirius told Harry. "The incantation is _Finite Incantatem_. You got that?" Harry repeated the words several times as Sirius corrected his pronunciation. "Good. Now move you wand like this and say it. _Finite Incantatem!_" Sirius yelled out the spell and directed the wand tip toward the group of tennis balls. When the spell hit, they all disappeared.

"Finite Incantaem reverses the effects of many basic spells," Sirius explained, before stepping back and stretching. He looked up at the darkening sky before speaking again. "Well, it's getting late and I don't know about you, but I'm beat. You should practice the spell until you get it; I'm off for the night."

Sirius was already several steps away and heading for the cover of trees by the time Harry spoke up.

"Sirius!" Harry yelled at his retreating godfather, "You got rid of the balls; what am I supposed to use the spell on?"

Sirius kept walking.

"Hey…" Harry began to say again, as he tried to take a step toward Sirius. His feet wouldn't cooperate, and remained planted to the spot. "Sirius, my feet are still stuck; you didn't undue the Sticking Charm!"

"I said _practice_," Sirius called out just before disappearing through the trees. It could have been the wind, but Harry could swear he heard a mad cackle slowly fading off into the distance.

Left by himself, Harry had no choice but to cast the spell repeatedly in hopes of getting free. His eleven year old mind played tricks on him; every sound was frightening, and ever shadow was a looming terror. For the first time, Harry began to consider the darker implications of a real magical world. Story book creatures were real, the goblins proved that, and Luna, the girl from the book store, mentioned other creatures existing as well. It was a necessity to undo the spell as quickly as possible.

Harry lost count of how many times he spoke the incantation before he had his first measure of success. With his toes now able to wiggle inside of his unmoving shoes, he found his second wind and renewed his determination. Choosing to focus on one foot at a time, he prepared to cast again.

A howl echoed throughout the park. If his feet weren't magically glued to the ground, Harry would have jumped. _It's just Sirius_, Harry told himself, but his casting became more frantic all the same. Whether it was one good cast or perhaps the combination of several poor casts in quick succession, Harry would never know, but he fell over as his right foot finally freed itself from the confinement of his shoe.

Past the edge of the park's clearing, there was the sound of something moving toward Harry through the brush. Black Dog leaped out and transformed into the wizard form of Sirius Black.

"Sorry Harry," Sirius said. His sincerity was genuine but even in the moonlight it was easy to spot his hidden smirk. "Didn't mean to scare you so badly. Well done by the way," Sirius added, nodding to Harry's empty shoe. "I didn't think you'd actually get that far."

Harry visibly relaxed at the sight of Sirius, but was still panting hard from his previous fright. Even as Sirius undid the sticking charm on his left foot, frustration quickly replaced relief as it dawned on Harry that Sirius played another trick on him.

"You nearly scared me to death," Harry said, as he glared at his godfather. "I knew that howl had to be you, but after today, I kept thinking about monsters and other magical animals…" Harry let the sentence hang as he recalled the goblin mentioning the dragons guarding the vaults.

"The howl spooked you?" Sirius no longer hid his grin. "Thought maybe there was a werewolf about, did you?"

Harry gave Sirius a pointed look that confirmed Sirius's suspicions.

"Nothing to worry yourself over," Sirius looked up the night sky. "There's over three weeks until the next full moon. Until then, they're harmless as puppies."

"There _are_ werewolves then?" Harry couldn't help but let out a small squeak as he spoke. His eyes scanned the darkness of the park.

"They aren't evil," Sirius said solemnly. "On the full moon, the creature is dangerous…deadly. But the person inside the monster, good or bad, they're just human. It's a terrible curse, and its one without a cure."

Harry wanted to know more, but over the past year, he learnt there were things Sirius didn't like to talk about. He wasn't sure why, but Sirius's mood told him this was one of those times.

"It really is late," Sirius changed the subject. "You should head home. I'll shrink your trunk again and keep it with me."

Harry wanted to protest. He knew he'd have to face his uncle at some point, but after the blow up earlier in the day, Harry dreaded returning to Number 4. Head hung low, he made his way toward the park's exit.

Sooner than Harry would have liked, he reached the house. Several feet to his left, Black Dog stood in the shadows. _Just in case_, Sirius had told him. Much as he expected, Vernon was upon him as soon as he opened the door. What was startling was the hushed tone in his uncle's voice as Harry was guided back outside to the front steps.

"Listen here boy," Vernon forcefully whispered. "You may have fallen in with that odd lot, but you won't be mentioning anything about it around here." Vernon's grip was as tight and painful as it ever was, but there was nervousness in his eyes that Harry had never seen before. "Your poor aunt and I have dealt with your kind for years. We've heard and seen all sorts of nonsense and done our part to forget it as best we could. We kept it from you, what you _really_ are, but you just couldn't be fixed."

Vernon looked over his shoulder to make sure their conversation was still private.

"So I'm making you a deal." He paused to make sure Harry was listening. "There'll be none of that wand waving funny business in this house. I don't want to hear a single word about that school of yours. You're a troubled teen, that's for sure, and if asked, you're attending St. Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys. That's what the neighbors will think…and _that's _what Dudley will think."

_There it is_, Harry thought. It always came down to Dudley in Vernon's eyes. The boy could do no wrong, and Harry was a bad influence that needed to be silenced.

"Our Dudley doesn't know anything about your kind," Vernon's eyes returned to the more familiar glare Harry was used to receiving. "You keep quiet and you act like a normal boy as best as you can manage, and you can stay here for the rest of the summer and go to that school of yours in the fall."

Vernon waited for Harry to nod in agreement to his terms then dragged him back into the house. Vernon let go of Harry at the stairs, but before he made his way up, he added one warning.

"You do like we agreed," Vernon spoke as his large shadow loomed over Harry, "and life could be pretty good here. You don't live up to your end, things will be…_difficult_."

* * *

><p>Vernon Dursley lived up to his end of the bargain as well as anyone who loathed Harry Potter could. That is to say, Vernon made Harry's stay better by ignoring that he existed all together. This included locking him out of Number 4 more than once when Harry returned home after Vernon had gone to bed. Petunia caught onto the game quickly enough, though she could still be heard mumbling about one chore or another that needed Harry's doing. What surprised Harry the most was Dudley. Dudley was not privy to Harry's <em>deal with the devil<em>, but it seemed his new found fear of Black Dog kept Dudley and his gang from rounding on Harry again, choosing to spend most of their time tormenting the younger children who frequented the nearby Stonewall High playground during the summer break instead.

Without chores and the countless punishments he would ordinarily receive, Harry was free to spend his days with Sirius learning magic and flying his broom. Though, Sirius did like to tempt fate by sneaking a tripping hex or two whenever he spotted Dudley's group getting too rough with a neighborhood kid. Fortunately his spell fire always went undetected.

In the park, Harry's training with a wand continued daily. Sirius quickly moved on from his Sudo-Repelling Charm to spells he thought Harry would find more useful under his current living arrangements. It took no time at all for Harry to perform the Unlocking Charm, _Alohomora_, and the Severing Charm, _Diffindo_, was like having a magical pocket knife handy. The latest spell Sirius planned for Harry to learn was supposed to help Harry _get _"rid of the evidence". It was a vague explanation, that when combined with the Unlocking Charm, led Harry to believe Sirius's goal was to turn the future first year into a master criminal.

"Good enough," Sirius said as he stopped Harry's wand waving. "You've got the motions down. Let's give it another try."

Sirius flicked his wand at a large chunk of earth exploded into a blinding cloud. A moment later, a much dirtier Harry coughed out a noise of protest.

"Don't look at me like that Harry," Sirius said with that patented smirk he wore during these lessons. "Give us your best Scourgify."

Harry looked down at his clothes. The black of his robe was now brown and chunks of grass clung to his loose tie. It was only a few weeks ago that Harry learnt to tie that _blasted noose_, as Sirius called. The day after his trip to Diagon, Harry dressed in his school uniform as Sirius had asked, with everything done up except for the tie that he held in his hand for Sirius to see. Sirius had laughed, showing Harry the muggle way to tie a tie and promising to show him the spell later. When Harry went to straighten and pull the tie to the correct position, Sirius had stopped him.

"That's no way to wear a tie," Sirius had said. Harry mentioned that was the way his uncle wore it. To that Sirius replied, "You want to look like Vernon Dursley?"

_No_, Harry did not want to be anything like his uncle at all. Harry made sure that his tie was good and loose every day since, that is, minus the occasions Sirius hit him with a silent spell that tightened the tie uncomfortably around Harry's neck. The spell quickly became one of Sirius's favorites during Harry's Bludger Training sessions.

Dirty from head to toe, Harry disapproved of the tie even more. The knot proved to be the most difficult part of his uniform to clean with the Scouring Charm.

"Scourgify," Harry incanted while picturing his school robes clean as the day he bought them. A wave of bubbles spread over his clothing as all traces of filth were removed.

"Well done," Sirius beamed. "You've improved quite a bit. A dirty uniform is a sure sign you've been up to trouble. Want to give Finite Incantatum another go?"

The counter-spell was still giving Harry trouble even a month after learning it. That didn't stop Sirius from making Harry use the spell every chance he got. From bewitching the broom so Harry was unable to fly it, to sticking Harry upside-down to a tree, Harry was forced to practice with only minor success as the result.

"Maybe we could take a break first?" Harry asked while fiddling with his tie. It was the last Saturday of August. On Sunday morning, Harry would leave for London and from there take the train to Hogwarts. This meant he only had hours left to spend with his godfather.

"Quit messing with your tie," Sirius said as his waved his wand, causing the tie to choke the boy. As Harry loosened his tie again, Sirius began thinking of something to say to lighten Harry's spirits, "You've got to look like you don't care if your tie's on straight or hanging half way around your neck. Loose tie, windswept hair as you come flying down from performing some maneuver or another on your broom… girls love that stuff."

Harry scrunched his nose and rolled his eyes at Sirius.

"What?" Sirius grinned. "I should know a thing about girls, Harry. It worked for your dad and me tons of times." Sirius laughed at Harry's reddening face. "Oh, you're still not into girls yet. They the enemy, are they? You know what they say, 'keep your friends close and the enemy closer'. Know what I mean?" Sirius wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"It's not like that," Harry quietly said. The large grin on his face slowly dying down as Sirius waited for Harry to continue. "You act like I'm going to have girls falling at my feet like you and dad. What you guys had as the Marauders sounds great; it won't be like that for me. You're the only friend I've ever had. When I get to Hogwarts, I'll just be lucky to be left alone and not have someone like Dudley causing problems for me."

Sirius turned Harry to look him in the eyes. "Look at me Harry. I know things haven't been great here. Dudley made it tough on you, but it wasn't just because of him. Lily tried to explain it all to me once, what it was like for her before Hogwarts. Muggles, they're never easy on wizards when they're young, something to do with how your natural magic feels to them.'

"Things are about to change. You're entering a world like you've never experienced before: the place you really belong. Above all else, be brave. These first years won't be like the others. You're special Harry, and some of them will see that, and they could be your friends if you let them. The first Hogwarts student you see, I want you to walk up to them and introduce yourself. Fortune favors the bold, Harry."

Silence followed Sirius's speech, neither of them knowing what to say. They walked the park and watched as the sun began to set in the horizon. It wasn't until they reached a park bench and sat down, that Sirius spoke again.

"You know," Sirius started, "you won't be completely on your own when you get there." Harry looked at Sirius quizzically. "I wasn't sure I should mention it before, but…you'll have a second cousin at Hogwarts…a couple of them actually."

Harry was stunned. For as long as he could remember, the Dursleys were the only family he knew. Then Sirius showed up a year ago and changed all of that. But he never mentioned any family who would be Hogwarts aged.

"You know we're family," Sirius looked at Harry for confirmation, though he already knew Harry was aware of the fact, "cousins."

Sometime around last Christmas he caught Harry in a similar mood, feeling upset about his family. It was then Sirius revealed Harry was related to the Black family through his grandmother's side.

"To be exact, we're first cousins once removed. Your grandmother Dorea was my father's older sister. They also had another brother. Two of his daughters had children of their own.'

"It's no secret I don't think highly of the Black family tree. The line is riddled with dark wizards. I was never cast out officially, but I spent the last years of school living with your grandparents, and I cut off all ties with the rest of the family save one.'

"Andromeda was the oldest of your Great-Uncle Cygnus's daughters. She married a Muggle-born before I left Hogwarts, and got her name burnt right off the family tapestry…she was_ amazing_. She's got a kid a few years older than you, Nymphadora Tonks. I remember her from before the war, funny little thing, could hardly walk a straight line without falling over." Sirius laughed the memory. "Find her when you get to Hogwarts, and see how she's doing for me. Can you do that?"

Harry agreed to find her before he asked, "Who else?" Sirius looked puzzled at the question. "Tonks is one, who else am I related to at Hogwarts?"

Sirius's mouth thinned as he cursed his slip from before.

"Lucius Malfoy's son," Sirius barely spoke.

"I'm related to Lord Malfoy?" Harry was surprised but wasn't against the idea. Sirius knew he wouldn't be. Harry spoke rather highly of the man ever since he rescued Harry in Diagon.

"No," Sirius quickly said, "thankfully not. It's through the blonde bastard's wife, Narcissa. She's one of Androneda's younger sisters. She's not as blatantly dark as some of the family, but very much the Pureblood elitist as any Black before here. Given who her boy's father is, it's a safe bet that the kid is just as bad. I'm sure I don't need to mention it's to best stay clear of the Malfoys …not that you'll listen."

Harry gave Sirius the _Stubborn Potter Stare,_ as Sirius called it. James had given him that look more times than he cared to remember in their youth. He also knew what that meant; there was no reasoning with him. So, Sirius moved on.

"Let's go over the list," Sirius changed subjects once again. "You've got your robes and books packed away. Your wand's holstered. Anything left in your cupboard you want to keep safe, you best grab tonight. Oh, I thought you might want to hang onto my broom for me." Sirius looked up from counting his list on his fingers.

"Sirius," Harry regretfully began, "you know first years aren't allowed to bring a broom. It says so in the letter." Harry held out his acceptance letter. The paper was worn from the countless times it had been read.

"Right," Sirius actually look apologetic for once. "It's against the rules now. Just so you know, that was mostly your father's fault, and why McGonagall was even awake is beyond me. A woman her age gallivanting around the castle at all hours of the night; it couldn't be good for the girl… The broom's in your trunk anyhow, and I expect you to have fun abusing the gift as best you can. The Marauders' legacy rests on your shoulders, you know."

* * *

><p><strong>Number 4, Privet Drive, September 1991<strong>

On his last day at Number 4, Harry woke up early. He hoped to keep his uncle in the best mood possible for when Hagrid arrived. So, he made breakfast for the Dursleys, though he was no longer required to do so. He then moved to the front steps, with his trunk shrunk in his pocket and Black Dog lying down at his side, waiting for Hagrid. With nothing else to occupy his time, Harry went over the schedule Sirius made him memorize the night before.

"First thing," Sirius had said, "Hagrid will swing by, making a spectacle of himself."

Harry looked to the sky to see if he could spot a flying motorcycle. The skies were bare, but from somewhere Harry couldn't place, a rumble and a sputtering grew louder until a purple triple-decker bus appeared out of thin air. With a screech that rang through the neighborhood, the bus came to a halt. The doors opened, and a thin man dressed in a purple uniform made way as a large passenger squeezed himself through the double doors; _Hagrid_.

From inside Number 4, Vernon could be heard yelling about the racket outside.

"Hey there Harry," Hagrid said with a grin. "Yer uncle didn't like the flyin' bike last time. So, I thought I'd travel a bit more Muggle."

Harry laughed at Hagrid's version of _a bit more Muggle_. He rushed up to Hagrid, wanting to get on the bus before his uncle made it to the front door. He stopped short of entering though, to turn back to Black Dog. This would be the last time he saw his godfather in any form until the end of the school year.

"Well Black Dog," Hagrid bellowed, "ya gettin' on or ain't cha?"

The dog answered by leaping past Harry onto the bus.

"What is that ungodly abomination doing in my front yard?" Vernon shouted from the house. Harry wasn't sure if he was referring to Hagrid, the bus or Harry himself.

"Let's go Hagrid," Harry said as he hurried on board.

"Headed to Hogwarts with ol' Hagrid then?" the man in the purple suit asked. "Right, you hear that Ernie? Next stop Kings Cross Station!" Turning back to Harry, he added, "the name's Stan Shunpike, conductor of the Knight Bus. Pleased to make your acquaintance. You might wanna take a seat. Things get a bit bumpy."

The bus took off with a bang of the magical engine, and Harry was tossed back into a worn out armchair. Hagrid barely missed crashing on top of Harry as he rolled down the aisle.

It was difficult to make out his surroundings as Harry was violently bounced around in his seat. The bus looked much like the triple-deckers Harry caught a glimpse of on the telly a couple times. The only exceptions were the padded chairs the passengers and driver sat in, and the wall mounted candles for lighting. He turned to see out the wind but got a headache for his trouble, as scenery moved so fast there was nothing but a blur. From somewhere behind him, he heard a yacking sound followed by complaint that a dog just threw up. _Poor Sirius_, Harry laughed quietly.

Only a couple minutes later, the bus came to a stop with a sudden lurch. Harry was thrown from his seat into the conductor.

"Now arriving at Kings Cross Station," Stan said as if a passenger running him over was nothing new. "Thanks for riding the Knight Bus, hope to have ya back soon."

Harry exited the bus and stepped aside for Hagrid and Black Dog. This was the first time Harry had ever seen a railway station in person. Crowds of people ran about, coming and going from the station's interior.

Above large glass windows, a clock tower read fifteen past ten. Harry had more than 45 minutes before his train departed.

"Well Harry," Hagrid said, getting his attention. "This is where me and Black Dog gotta say g'bye. I gotta get to the castle ahead of ya. Got things to do before the students arrive, and…well, I can't fit through the barrier at nine and three-quarters anyhow."

"Why can't Black Dog come with me?" Harry asked. He wanted Sirius to stay by his side.

"It's like we talked about before. Dogs aren't allowed, but I figured a way around that rule," Hagrid smiled at his own cleverness. "As Keeper of the Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts, I got all sorts of animals to give me a hand. Figured Black Dog here could pose as a buddy fer Fang. As far as anyone but you and me know, Black Dog is one of mine, and you just come down to see me on the regular fer tea and the like."

"That sounds brilliant Hagrid," Harry replied. Sirius was wrong about Hagrid; he came up with a perfect plan. "See ya at Hogwarts boy," Harry said to Black Dog, and then started for the station's entrance.

"Wait Harry," Hagrid yelled. Harry turn back around to see what he wanted. "Where's yer trunk?"

_Nuts_. Harry wasn't sure how to explain that. Finally he decided on the truth.

"Shrunk it with magic," Harry said as he patted his pocket.

"Right," Hagrid reminded himself out loud, "Knew there was somethin' I forgot to tell ya. Technically speakin' yer not supposed to use magic out of school. Best keep that trunk another secret between you and me."

Harry nodded and waved goodbye before searching for platform nine and three-quarters on his own. Harry moved through the crowd of the station with trepidation, but the excitement of finally attending Hogwarts kept him moving forward. Today was the start of a new life: a better one, without the Dursleys, and full of possibilities.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: I know it's been a while since my last update. I've gotten back into the swing of things… and to make up for my absence, I'm posting this chapter now, with the next one coming in less than 24 hours of this one…and…another to be posted in less than a week's time (my beta promises).

**Next Chapter:** There's Kings Cross, wizarding paparazzi, the Malfoys, and a girl named Hermione.


	5. Chapter Five: Her Name is Hermione

**Chapter 5: Chapter Five: Her Name is Hermione**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the franchise of Harry Potter. The world and characters used in this story belongs to J.K. Rowling. Material has been altered to suit the needs of this fanfiction.

**Warning:** This story is rated M for strong language and graphic violence.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five:<strong>

**Her Name is Hermione**

…

**Kings Cross Station, September 1991**

Navigating the Kings Cross Station to the correct platform proved more difficult than Harry first thought. Standing at platform nine, he saw no signs of nine and three-quarters. Now aimlessly wandering, hoping to stumble on it by chance, Harry tried to remember what Sirius told him about finding the platform.

"After Hagrid thoroughly embarrasses the Dursleys," Sirius had said, "you'll make your way to Kings Cross. After you get good and lost, find someone in robes and follow them."

_Someone in robes_, Harry thought to himself as he scanned the crowd. It didn't take long for Harry to spot the _someone in robes_ he was supposed to find. Not a few feet from him, a girl around his age and dressed in a Hogwarts uniform, walked with her parents.

"_Please _hurry," the girl spoke to her parent with exasperation. "It's a new school and the first day! I can't be late."

"Hermione," the woman, who must have been her mother, said as a warning.

_Her name is_ _Hermione_, Harry thought, as he watched the bushy haired girl pout at her mother. _She said it's her first day at a new school. So, she's a first year too. Alright, time to be brave. _Harry squared his shoulders and eventually was able to catch-up to the girl.

"Hi," Harry cringed at how weak he sounded. He took a deep breath as the family of three faced him. "I'm Harry. I thought you might be another first year like me, and we might be able to find the platform together."

Hermione gave Harry an appraising look as her mother spoke, "Hermione, be nice to the boy and say hello." Hermione glanced away from Harry to stare at the floor as she said her greeting too softly for Harry to hear. "You're going to Hogwarts?" her mother asked.

Harry realized that he didn't look much like a wizard, dressed in hand-me-downs with no trunk in sight.

"Yes Ma'am," Harry replied. Hermione stared at Harry's clothes. "Robes are in my trunk, and my trunk's in my pocket." He answered Hermione's unasked question by pulling out the shrunken item from his trousers. "One of the staff picked me up and dropped me off here, but he had to get back to the castle in a hurry. So, I'm here by myself. Any idea where platform nine and three-quarters is?"

"Between nine and ten, I imagine," Hermione spoke clearly to Harry for the first time. "_Hogwarts: A History_ says there's a barrier to hide the platform from Muggles. I think it's actually hidden from anyone who doesn't know where to look, Muggle or not."

"That professor of yours didn't happen to give any hints on how to find the thing before abandoning you in the middle of London, did he?" The tall brown haired man, who Harry assumed was Hermione's father, asked. It was plan to see that he wasn't happy to hear that a professor would leave a child on his own.

"He's not a professor really," Harry said. "He's the grounds keeper." Harry felt the need to defend Hagrid, but really didn't know how to go about it. Hermione's father made a fair point. "I was told I should find someone in robes and follow them."

"And how's that working out for you?" Hermione's father asked, still upset about an adult leaving an eleven year old to defend for himself.

"I found Hermione," Harry answered honestly.

Hermione's mother laughed and Hermione looked away from him in embarrassment.

"Turns out he gave you a bit of good advice," Hermione's mother said. She pointed to a dark skinned woman, dressed in a silky green robe, ushering her son along. Just when Harry thought they were going to run headlong into a brick wall, they vanished. "Oh, I must have been wrong; I swore I saw something."

_The brick wall is the barrier_; Harry recognized the telltale signs of magic.

Hermione saw it too. She pulled her mother along while explaining what happened. Reaching the barrier, they past another family of wizards. If they had not been standing on the other side of the brick wall from where he entered the station, Harry would have spotted them first thing, if not because of the robes, then by their six heads of flaming red hair. Harry heard the redheaded mother double check if any of her children forgot anything, but he stopped listening to pay attention to Hermione. She took a deep breath and with a running start, dragged her mother through the magic wall. Harry followed soon after with Hermione's father, who was carting around his daughter's trunk.

Platform nine and three-quarters was as packed with wizards as nine and ten were packed with Muggles. Hermione held tightly to her mother's hand so not to get separated. Harry nearly did the same with her father. Instead, he awkwardly stood by the girl's trunk while she said a tear-filled goodbye to her parents.

Surprisingly, Sirius's tip on finding the platform worked. And as Harry watched the numerous wizards around him, he was reminded of another bit of Sirius's advice.

"Once you find the platform," He had said, "it would be best to beeline it straight for the train. Based on your trip to Diagon, I'm betting your adoring fans will be expecting you."

Looking to Hermione again, he noticed her parents had already left.

"Mother says I didn't introduce myself properly," Hermione said, hand outstretched. "I'm Hermione Granger." When Harry shook her hand, she asked, "You wouldn't want to find a compartment together, would you?"

"Yeah," Harry grinned, and he picked up one end of her trunk, "sounds great."

Hermione's bucktoothed smile disappeared as a camera flash stopped the duo in their tracks. More cameras went off and a barrage of questions was shouted at Harry.

"Harry; tell us your thoughts about Hogwarts."

"Witch Weekly must know; who's the girl?"

"Why the Muggle clothing; is this a new fashion statement?"

"What do you have to say about the rumors of you and Lord Malfoy joining forces…" the last question was interrupted by the clank of a cane making contact with the brick floor. Smiling at the new addition to the gathered crowd, the reporter continued, "…to overrun the Ministry. Ah, Lucius Malfoy, what are your intentions involving the Boy Who Lived?"

"I believe Mr. Potter is here to board the Hogwarts Express," a familiar drawl spoke, "not to give out interviews."

"Lord Malfoy," Harry smiled as Lucius Malfoy came to his rescue once again.

"Come Harry," Lucius said as he guided Harry, and by extension Hermione, who was still attached to the opposite end of the trunk Harry held, away from the reporters.

Lucius moved them closer to the train and then detached a wand from the handle of his cane, casting an intricate pattern of colorful magic.

"I see you have already made a friend," Lucius said once he put away his wand. The sound outside of their immediate area was muffled by the spell Lucius used, making it easier to carry on a conversation.

"This is Hermione Granger," Harry said, moving to the side so Lucius could see her better. "She's a first year like me."

"Ah," Lucius said shortly. "You're a Muggle-born, if I'm not mistaken."

Intimidated by the man, Hermione could only nod her reply.

"Allow me to introduce to you another first year student," Lucius said, moving to reveal a boy with piercing silver eyes and short cropped hair that was the same platinum blonde as Lucius himself. "This is my son, Draco."

The boy looked annoyed to be there, and gave only a tilt of his head in recognition of Harry.

"We're cousins," Harry blurted out before he could help himself.

"Then you are aware of your family?" Lucius questioned, showing his surprise. "I feared the Muggles would keep such important details as lineage from you. I'm pleased to find out otherwise." Lucius began to say more, but his attention was drawn by something over Harry's shoulder. Following his gaze, Harry saw a bearded, burly man subtlety signaling for Lord Malfoy to speak with him. "I believe I should make my leave. I'm sure you and your cousin Draco will have plenty to discuss. If you are ever in need of anything, feel free to owl." Lucius gave Draco a pointed look and then walked away. He muttered a farewell "Granger," as he left.

"What my father told me is true," Draco said as he moved closer to Harry. "Harry Potter has returned."

"Uh," Harry stalled, thinking of the best way to reply. "Yeah, I went to Diagon Alley for the first time about a month ago. Had a bit of trouble with the reporters, but your dad handled them for me…did it again just a second ago."

"Father knows how to deal with the press," Draco stood a little taller as he talked of his father. "The House of Malfoy is politically powerful, and reporters constantly hound important figures hoping for a story to gossip about."

"He didn't like those reporters very much," Hermione spoke up.

"The Quibbler was there no doubt," Draco glared off into the distance. "Father hates them because they'll print anything to make a Knut, and Lovegood wants to discredit the Malfoy name to sell more papers. The Minister of Magic calls on father when making all of his most important decisions. Lovegood just mentioning my father in one of those imaginary conspiracies probably doubles his monthly sells."

"I remember the Minister talking about the Quibbler when I met him," Harry added to the conversation, "I think I met Mr. Lovegood's daughter too. She seemed nice enough at the time."

Harry fondly recalled meeting Luna Lovegood. She was friendly to him when no other child his age had been before. She even tried to help him in her own odd way.

Draco's eyebrows rose when Harry mentioned the Minister of Magic, and then they turned to a scowl when Harry said he liked Luna Lovegood. Hermione showed her surprise as well, though she shrank back as the two boys shared their associations with the leaders of wizarding Britain.

"Anyone involved with the Quibbler will learn not to mess with father," Malfoy said smugly, "especially the Lovegoods… and that little Half-blood you seem so fond of, her father's a Mudblood. That makes that girl hardly better than a muggle herself. At least her mother's a Pureblood, even if she is a blood traitor."

_Blood traitor, Mudblood_, those were terms Sirius warned him about. Only elitist Purebloods used words like that, bigots who looked down on anyone who wasn't born from two wizards. Harry's mother was a Muggle-born…a _Mudblood_. And both Harry's father and godfather were considered blood traitors for thinking her their equal. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry caught Hermione backing away. It was enough to make Harry finally snapped at Draco.

"I'm a Half-blood," Harry said, daring Draco to comment. "My mother was a Muggle-born. I was warned about wizards like you. Your dad helped me when I needed it, but you're nothing like him."

For a moment, both Draco and Harry stood unblinking, eye to eye, each one taking silent measure of the other. Slowly, Draco's frown transformed to a twisted sneer.

"I told father he was wasting his time with you," Draco scoffed at Harry, before shoving past him and boarding the train. As he entered, he ran into a chubby boy, knocking the child's trunk over. Harry could tell Draco shouted something at the boy, but Lucius Malfoy's spell was still blocking sound.

"Come on," Harry huffed, grabbing a hold of Hermione's trunk again.

When he didn't feel Hermione lift her end of the trunk, he turned around. Hermione looked _small_, Harry didn't know how else to describe it. Her shoulders sagged and her head was down. Her long bushy hair hid her face so that her features were unreadable. But through the curls, her honey brown eyes watched Harry carefully.

"Will everyone be like that, you think?" Hermione's tiny voice made Harry uneasy.

Harry's own insecurities led him to fear that others would be like Draco, that Hogwarts would be just like life in Little Whinging, but Sirius said things would be different. He promised that Harry would make friends his own age this time. Hermione was proof enough Sirius was right. Even if it was just the two of them against the rest, Harry was already better off than before. He had one friend, and he would have Black Dog too.

"No," Harry told Hermione. "Draco's an idiot. We both know that." He looked back to where Draco entered the train. The boy Draco bumped into was busy repacking the contents of his spilled over trunk. Harry pointed out the boy to Hermione. "I bet he would agree with me."

Hermione lifted her head high as she recognized to whom Harry was referring. She hurried to enter the train at the same entrance Draco used, and helped the other boy pick up his things. Harry did his best to catch up to her while dragging her trunk by himself, and then gave a hand once he had.

"Thanks," The boy said sincerely. He didn't look up from gathering all of his items from the floor of the train. "My gran says I'm hopelessly clumsy."

"It wasn't your fault," Hermione told the boy.

"It was my cousin's," Harry added. "Sorry about that."

The sandy haired boy's head jerked up to face Harry.

"Draco Malfoy's your cousin?" he asked Harry immediately, and then his eyes widened when he saw the lightning bolt scar. "Har-Harry Potter?"

"Yeah," Harry lamely stated. He wasn't used to the way wizards seemed to know him without introduction. "And you are?"

Harry only received sputters for a response until Hermione answered for him, "He's Neville Longbottom, a first year like us."

"Oh," Harry looked from Hermione back to Neville, "nice to meet you, Neville."

After shaking the timid boy's hand, Harry picked up a box with holes on several sides.

"Say there Neville," Harry said as he examined the empty container, "what's this for?"

It took Neville a moment to realize the contents of his box were missing, but when he did, he yelled, "Trevor!"

"Trevor?" Harry looked to Hermione to see if she knew what Neville was talking about. She shrugged her shoulders in confusion, and waited for Neville to calm down.

"My toad," Neville explained, "he's escaped again. Gran's gonna kill me when she finds out."

"No she won't," Hermione said as she stood up. "We'll help you look for Trevor. If he's on the train, we'll find him… right Harry?"

The first years closed Neville's trunk and moved down the car, stopping by each compartment as they passed. They received mixed reactions from their fellow students, many of whom didn't like being interrupted by first years. Others were more interested in Harry's scar. None had seen a renegade toad.

As they reached the end of the car, there were only two compartments left. Harry, who was between Hermione and Neville, held one end of a trunk in each hand; in his right was Hermione's and the other was Neville's. Neville's trunk was much lighter than Hermione's, which made Harry wonder just what the girl was bringing with her to Hogwarts. Carrying both was quickly tiring him out. Hermione, who was in the front of the group, stopped abruptly, letting go of the hold she had on her trunk.

"Why did you stop?" Harry was annoyed by the sudden shift of weight placed on his right arm.

"Maybe we should come back to this compartment last," Hermione said while ducking below the window of the compartment door. "Draco is in there, and he isn't alone."

Harry looked back to Neville, who also seemed unwilling to enter Draco Malfoy's compartment. He reluctantly agreed, and they moved on to the last compartment of the car, making sure to bend low as not to be seen by the compartment's occupants.

The last car held only one student. The first thing Harry noticed about him was the boy's red hair. The next thing Harry noticed was the all too familiar blank stare of boredom the boy wore as he gazed unfocused out the window of the train. He appeared to be people-watching, with his chin resting on his palm. He was as tall as a fourth year, able to see out the window even from his bent over pose, but his face looked as young as Harry's.

"He's a first year like us," Hermione whispered to Harry. When she saw Harry's questioning eyes, she explained. "His tie is black like mine and Neville's. All the older students wear ties the same colors as their House."

"Come on," Harry said, opening the door and entering the compartment. "Excuse me, but have you seen a toad hopping around?"

"Um…no?" the compartment's occupant said, while still caught off guard. "You missing one?"

"Yeah," Harry began, "or Neville is anyway. That's him behind me, Neville Longbottom. This is Hermione Granger," Harry said, stepping aside to make the other two visible, "…and I'm Harry."

"Ron… I'm Ron Weasley." It was obvious to Harry that Ron recognized who he was, but he was thankful that Ron seemed to hold back any judgment beyond his initial surprise.

"Hey you lot," a voice shouted from the hallway. "You need to pick a compartment; the Hogwarts Express is about to take off."

Harry helped Hermione and Neville move their trunks into the room.

"Hurry up now," the voice said again, now much closer.

"They're looking for Neville's toad, Percy," Ron said from his seat.

After storing Hermione's trunk in the overhead bin for her, Harry turned around to see who Ron was talking to. He was a stern looking boy with Ron's fiery red hair; there were no doubts the two were related. Taller than Ron, and obviously older, he was dressed in a Hogwarts uniform with a gold and red tie fixed perfectly in place. In his hands, he held a large rat that was trying to nibble on a shining gold badge attached to the boy's robes.

"You're missing a toad?" Percy asked, his face much brighter than before. "Well, it's a good thing I came along. Come with me. I'll have your toad for you in no time. Ron, watch Scabbers for me; he hates toads." After handing Ron his pet rat, he grabbed ahold of Neville's robe and dragged the boy away.

Hermione looked to Harry to see if they should follow.

"Don't worry about Neville," Ron said, now petting the squirming rodent. "Percy's been itching to officially perform his Prefect duties ever since he got his badge this summer."

"He's a Prefect?" Hermione asked excitedly.

Harry knew from Sirius, each Head of House selected Prefects from the fifth, sixth and seventh year students, one male and one female for each grade. _Does Hermione hope to be a Prefect in fifth year? _Harry wasn't sure if he should be worried or not that his new friend seemed to like the idea of becoming a Prefect. In all honesty, Harry didn't think a student enforcing the rules was really so wrong, but Sirius certainly thought becoming a Prefect was a bad thing.

Sirius once told Harry, "A Prefect's job is to make sure you have as little fun as possible, and to get you in trouble whenever you manage it in spite of them. McGonagall forced the title on Moony, hoping to keep Prongs and me in line. It was a terrible curse for the bloke to bear."

Ron made a face at Hermione's comment.

"Percy's been insufferable ever since he got selected," Ron complained. "To get him to leave the rest of us alone, Mum had to threaten to take his badge away. Once we're in Gryffindor together, I don't know what I'm gonna do."

"You know what House you'll be in?" Hermione voiced the question on the tip of Harry's tongue.

"Sure," Ron said. "Weasleys have always been sorted to Gryffindor. What about you Harry?"

"Don't know," Harry answered. "I would say Gryffindor or Hufflepuff if I had to take a guess."

That was a lie. Sirius explained to Harry that every first year was placed into one of the four Houses of Hogwarts based on their character. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff were the two Harry would prefer to join, but he didn't think he actually could.

Gryffindor House was the House of the Marauders, the House of his mother and father. He wanted to be a part of that legacy more than anything, but that was the House for the brave. For as long as Harry could remember, he always ran from Dudley and his Uncle Vernon instead of facing them.

Then there was Hufflepuff House, a place for the loyal and hardworking, those students who stuck by their friends and never gave up. Thanks to the Dursleys, Harry knew he could be hardworking enough, but he was not the most trusting eleven year old as a result. Before meeting Sirius, he never had a friend to be loyal too.

Ravenclaw House was for the studious. Harry enjoyed his lessons with Sirius, but he preferred brooms and flying over books and reading. He knew he could rule out Ravenclaw, and that left just one more House.

Students of the Slytherin House were cunning and ambitious. Sirius taught Harry how to be cunning, and Harry knew he had the required ambition, if nothing else but to escape the Dursleys. But there were other less desirable associations that came with being Slytherin. Harry knew from Sirius's stories that he didn't want to be a part of that House.

"Oh," Hermione's reply had a hint of doubt mixed in. "I'm not sure where I'll end up. I've read all about them of course, but all the Houses seem to have merit."

"Not Slytherin," Ron protested. "Not a wizard who's gone dark that hasn't been Slytherin. Fred says they even cheat at Quidditch."

"That's the flying game right?" Hermione innocently asked.

"_Flying game_?" Ron's voice rose. "Quidditch is a lot more than just flying, Hermione. It's the best sport there is. It's about strategy and skill. Tell her Harry." Ron pleaded to Harry for support, drawing the boy's attention.

"Yeah, it's the flying game," Harry told Hermione as if Ron never spoke. Harry quickly added, "I can't wait to see a match," hoping to appease Ron as well.

"You've never seen one?" Ron asked.

"I was raised Muggle," Harry said before thinking it through.

Harry glanced at Hermione as he waited to see Ron's opinion of Muggle-borns.

"Oh," Ron began, "just wait until the House teams start up. My brothers Fred and George are Beaters for the Gryffindor team, and Charlie was the Seeker until he graduated last year. If they would let first years play, I'd be on it for sure. I usually play Keeper back at home." Ron was getting excited. "But if you really want to see a game, the pro league is where it's at. Chudley Cannons are sure to make a comeback this year."

Harry's mood once again brightened from Ron's reaction. The boy was far more interested in talking about a game than any opinions on blood purity. _This is the way everyone should be_, Harry thought.

Much to Hermione's annoyance, Ron continued to go on about his favorite professional Quidditch team and players until Neville returned with Trevor the toad held in both hands. Hermione quickly opened the compartment door and ushered him inside.

"Hey Neville," Harry greeted. "Where did you find him?"

Neville checks reddened. "He was on a tea trolley trying to get into some sweets. A Ravenclaw girl found him, screamed when she did. I had to buy the box he was trying to get into," Neville shuffled Trevor in his arms and pulled a small box with one corner misshaped and partially ripped. "Anyone want it? Gran says I should cut back on candy."

"No thanks," Harry said while still staring at the damaged container. Hermione didn't say anything, but based on the expression she wore, Harry knew she too was wondering just how much of that candy had been in a toad's mouth at some point.

"I'll take it," Ron cheerfully said. When Ron noticed the looks both Harry and Hermione where giving him, he explained, "Not to eat it! That's disgusting. I want the card."

"It's a _Chocolate Frog_," Neville explained before either of the Muggle raised children could ask. "Each one comes with a Famous Wizards Card."

"I've been collecting them for ages," Ron added. "Nearly have the set."

Ron opened the package but Scabbers, who was in his lap, swiped at his hands as he did. The candy leaped from his hands and onto the floor with Scabbers following right behind.

"It's alive?" Hermione was astonished. "Trevor wants to eat a frog?"

"Trevor's a cannibal," Harry thought aloud.

"Maybe he was trying to set it free," Neville defended his toad.

"It's just a spell on the chocolate to make it move," Ron explained.

The first years watched as Scabbers finally caught the hopping confection. The rat bit off a chocolate leg, and scurried to a corner of the compartment to nibble on it.

"Definitely not going to eat it now," Ron declared with a nod of finality.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: The next chapter is only days away!

**Next Chapter:** Harry and his fellow first years choose sides and then get sorted.


	6. Chapter Six: Starting at the Line's End

**Chapter 6: Chapter Six: Starting at the Line's End**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the franchise of Harry Potter. The world and characters used in this story belongs to J.K. Rowling. Material has been altered to suit the needs of this fanfiction.

**Warning:** This story is rated M for strong language and graphic violence.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six:<strong>

**Starting at the Line's End**

…

**Hogsmeade, September 1991**

The Hogwarts Express arrived in Hogsmeade Station at a quarter past seven. At half past the hour, the last student to disembark the train caught up with the other first years gathered around Hagrid on the platform.

"There ya are Harry," Hagrid's voice boomed.

Harry waved shyly back and finished buttoning his robe. He found a place next to Hermione, who was frowning at him for his tardiness. She then elbowed Ron to stop him from snickering at Harry's embarrassment. Harry could tell that Neville was suppressing a laugh as well.

"Is tha' everyone?" Hagrid asked, as he counted the first years. "Right, this way then."

The first years all followed Hagrid as he made his way to the opposite end of the platform from where the upper years were exiting the station.

"What took so long Harry?" Hermione whispered as they walked.

"Took forever to find someone to enlarge my trunk," Harry lied.

Truthfully, he waited until no one was left in their compartment before reversing the Shrinking Charm on his own. He couldn't let on that he knew any spells already; he feared the suspicion could lead back to Sirius.

The long path was mostly rocky. With his focus half on his footing and the other half on his haphazard attempt at tying his tie, Harry didn't realize that the path had smoothed out or that they had reached a pier until Ron grabbed ahold of his sleeve, stopping Harry from walking straight off the dock.

Harry gave up adjusting his uniform to look at the view. The calm water perfectly mirrored the sky above. The first stars of the night were visible, but the sky still held a trace of fading deep blue. _When did it get so dark?_ Harry wondered. To the west, he saw the mountains that cast a blanket of shadow across the valley containing Hogsmeade.

Staring out into the near black, past several meters of water Harry saw an enormous wall of stone. With his obstructed position on the pier, Harry was unable to see where the wall ended or began. Over the top of the wall, there was a faint glow of light emanating from somewhere far behind it.

"Everyone to a boat," Hagrid commanded the first years.

"Come on Harry," Ron said, pushing his way to the front of the group.

The students divided their number among ten oarless wooden boats, while Hagrid took the one in the front all to himself. Once everyone was aboard, the boats magically moved themselves slowly across the water toward the wall and then turned direction to travel along it, going deeper into the body of water.

Harry's boat was now close enough to the wall to touch the large stones. He leaned out of the boat with his hand extended to do just that, but felt someone tug on his robe to pull him back.

"Don't Harry," Hermione said in a hushed warning. "It's dangerous. I've read there are wards on the wall to keep intruders out."

"We're not intruders Hermione," Harry said as he reached out again. "We belong here."

Harry's hand made contact, not with the stone but with an invisible barrier just a centimeter from it. It was warm and quietly hummed at his touch. He laughed at the sensation.

They continued floating the length of the wall until eventually reaching a large metal gate, which began to sink into the water as soon as they approached it. Harry spotted flickering of a wand from above a stone bridge that connected one side of the wall to the other above the gate. As Harry got closer to the opening, he tried to focus on the mysterious owner of the wand, but his attention was quickly drawn to what laid beyond the wall instead.

On the far side of what Harry now knew to be a large lake, was a great castle lit by thousands of torch lights and standing upon a cliff 30 meters above the water below. There was a bridge, much wider and longer than the one he just traveled under, connecting the castle at the edge of the cliff to land on the other side of the lake. It was at this point the lake was at its narrowest; bottlenecking to only a 50 meter gap. The water continued beyond, but to what extent, Harry did not know.

The castle itself stood several stories high, and from his position, Harry counted at least six tall towers and even more spires jutting out from the structure skyward. To the right of the castle, Harry could see a thick forest rise with the mountainous landscape that began far behind the castle and stretched in a wide arch, eventually wrapping itself along the eastern side of the lake.

"That is Hogwarts Castle," Hagrid said from the lead boat.

Just after Hagrid's lackluster introduction to the most spectacular sight Harry had ever seen, a tentacle as wide as Hagrid splashed from the lake before returning to the depths below. Several students screamed in alarm, as the boats rocked from the ripples caused by the tentacle's movement.

"Not to worry," Hagrid shouted. "The Giant Squid ain't gonna hurt nobody. He's just sayin' hello."

The boats continued to float across the lake without any other surprises. All the students were silent from either the awe of the castle, or the fright put into them by the monstrous sea creature they now knew swam below them. Their silence remained until they reached a boat house at the base of the cliff below the castle.

Harry climbed out of his boat with the aid of a ladder attached to the dock, and then attempted to help his friends up. He felt a forceful shove from behind as other students walked past him. The push caused Harry to let go of Neville, who still had one foot in the boat. Neville fell but managed to catch himself, and only his left leg and the end of his robe got wet.

"Sorry about that," said a boy, taking the blame for bumping into Harry.

Though lanky Ron Weasley was taller, this thick browed boy was easily the largest first year in the bunch. To his left, the much smaller Draco Malfoy sneered, and next to him an extremely stocky boy, frown. The largest boy couldn't hold back his smile, making it clear to Harry that he was not sorry at all.

"Watch your step Longbottom," Draco laughed. "You never know when another accident might happen. Come on Crabbe, Goyle."

Draco and his two friends walked away as Harry helped Neville fully onto the dock.

"Are you alright Neville?" Hermione asked. She and Ron were still in the boat when Neville fell.

"Yeah," Neville said as he rang out the bottom of his robe. "Just slipped is all."

"Slipped?" Ron exclaimed. "That was Draco Malfoy with the big bloke. I bet a Knut he pushed Harry on purpose. He probably planned on knocking him straight into the lake."

Harry agreed with Ron; it wasn't an accident. He could tell that Ron wanted to do something about it, but like Harry, didn't know what it was that they were supposed to do. Harry was aware that Hermione was intimidated by Draco, and it was plan to see that Neville wanted to drop it. So, the foursome joined the rest of the students and began their hike up the switchback staircase cut into the cliff.

Once they reached the top, Hagrid brought them into a courtyard surrounded by two rows of ivy columns on three sides. On the fourth side, gigantic wooden doors opened to the castle interior.

The doors led to a hall. Across from the entrance, there was a wide marble staircase leading up to the next floor. On either side of it were two smaller staircases leading downward, and a series of simple wooden doors were found next to those. There were two other doorways in the hall, one each found on the walls to Harry's left and right. They were larger than the rest, the one on the right being the largest of all. It was behind the largest doorway the first years could hear sounds of several hundred wizards.

"You lot wait here," Hagrid told the children, as he ducked under a doorway next to the stairs.

After a long moment, an anxious student finally broke the silence.

"What are we supposed to do now?" said a round-faced girl in pigtails.

"You heard the Squib," Draco spoke up. "We're supposed to _wait_. Really, the man's no better than a Muggle and they leave him in charge."

"Hagrid's not a Squib," Harry defended the grounds keeper.

"What's a Squib?" a curly-haired boy next to Neville asked, completely unaware of the argument that was about to break out.

"Of course _you_ would stick up for the uneducated oaf," Draco taunted Harry. He cast a meaningful look at first Hermione and then Neville. "Already got yourself a…_Muggle-born_ and one Squib, why not another?"

From the corner of his eye, Harry spotted a short brown haired girl frowning nod of agreement.

"What's wrong with being Muggle-born?" Someone murmured from the crowd of first years.

"You best watch it Malfoy," Ron warned.

"Oh," Draco said excitedly, "A Weasley! Really Potter, when it comes to friends, you really set the bar low."

Several students laughed at Draco's verbal jab. A couple others spoke in hushed whispers, surprised by the name _Potter_.

Harry knew too well the signs of a fight about to happen. At this point, Dudley and his friends usually circled Harry to block off escape just before throwing the first punch. It was also at this point Harry usually ran.

"I'm doing just fine making friends," Harry defended himself and the wizards and witch behind him.

Harry noticed Draco already had his wand out, and was not alone. Crabbe and Goyle, the boys who were with Draco earlier, now flanked Draco on either side. They also had their wands drawn and raised, ready to cast.

_Do they know any curses?_ Harry wondered. Sirius taught Harry several spells, but none of them could harm the first years in front of him. Well, maybe the Severing Charm could hurt him, but Harry didn't want to think about what that could do. Harry pulled out his wand anyway.

"I said," a tall black boy interrupted, "What's wrong with being Muggle-born?" He stood next to Harry and waited in anger for Draco to answer.

This new boy's fists were clinched. Harry wished one of those fists held a wand.

"Nothin'," a boy with an Irish brogue spoke up, looking more confused than angry. "Me da's a Muggle, you know."

For a brief moment, Draco looked scandalized by the Irish boy's intrusion, but he quickly returned his attention back on Harry. Harry tensed, preparing to be cursed. Draco opened his mouth to speak, but someone else spoke up first, distracting him.

"What is going on in here?" A commanding female voice asked.

"Pureblood bigotry," Harry quoted something he had heard Sirius say long ago. He never took his eyes off Draco.

No one else spoke. Draco, who still held most of Harry's attention, was wide eyed, focused somewhere behind and above Harry. He slowly lowered his wand, drawing as little notice to the act as possible. To his left, his friend quickly tried to hide his own wand behind his back. The boy on Draco's right still stared dumbly ahead, wand extended, not sure what to do.

"_Harry_," Hermione whispered to get his attention.

Harry looked behind him to find that Hagrid had returned with someone else, a very stern faced adult witch.

"Would you care to elaborate Mr. Potter?" the woman asked in an expecting tone.

She stood over Harry with imposingly perfect posture, rigged yet calm. Dressed in robes as green as Harry's eyes, with black hair pulled back tight, tucked into a wide brimmed and pointed topped hat, Harry couldn't help but compare her to the classic evil witches from Muggle cartoons and decorations from past Halloweens. And though the long nose and ugly visage of those imaginary characters were instead replaced by a refined sort of elegance that Harry was not yet mature enough to completely comprehend, He knew this woman was not one to be crossed.

"No ma'am," Harry answered, hoping to avoid getting in trouble.

"I see," she took a breath and a step back before addressing all of the first years. "I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It is my duty to see that each one of you receives the best education this school can provide and help you on your way to graduation. That said, I will not stand for fighting in this school. I will not stand for any form of prejudiced against other students." At this, she pointedly looked at Draco. "Such acts are punishable by detention, loss of House Points, or even expulsion. Do I make myself clear?"

Draco nodded, several other students nodded as well, though the Deputy Headmistress was no longer directing her attention to them.

"Customarily a loss of House Points and detentions would be given to those breaking the rules." At this, McGonagall glanced at Harry and the boys standing behind him, "however, the school year has yet to begin. I expect better of my students. This will be a warning. You will not get another.'

"Now if you will all line up, we will enter the Great Hall quietly and walk to the front, and you will each wait to be called for your individual sorting."

As the students lined up and waited to be escorted into the hall, McGonagall spoke to Harry privately.

"Defending your friends is admirable," McGonagall lectured quietly, "but can you perhaps think of a better alternative to fighting?"

Harry furrowed his brow in thought.

"Not particularly ma'am," Harry replied innocently and honestly.

McGonagall inhaled sharply. She looked as if she was about to speak, but instead turned away from Harry and headed toward the doors of the Great Hall.

"Everyone on their best behavior," She spoke to the group, surveying each student one last time. "Fasten up your robes. Mr. Weasley, tie you shoe." She opened the doors but paused again as her eyes fell back onto Harry, "and Mr. Potter," she said firmly, "for Merlin's sake, straighten your tie."

* * *

><p>Nearly 400 hundred students and teachers occupied the Great Hall, but still did not completely fill the enormous room. Yet with all eyes on the entering first years, Harry felt suffocated. He did his best to ignore the sudden anxiety, and followed his fellow students as they were guided through the hall. They walked with the back wall to their right and the ends of four tables that stretched the distance of the room on their left. When they passed the first two tables, they turned and walked parallel to the rows of seated upper classmen all the way to the front of the room.<p>

Before them was another table raised on a platform running perpendicular to the four tables of students. Seated behind it, Harry assumed were the professors of Hogwarts. In the center of them, seated in the largest and most ornate chair, was an elderly wizard with the longest white beard Harry had ever seen. His hands were steepled with his gentle gaze directed solely toward Harry.

Harry felt another pair of eyes on him as well. A couple chairs to the left of the bearded professor, Harry recognized Professor Quirrell, the professor he met at the Leaky Cauldron only a month before. Quirrell gave Harry a slight smile before his eyes flickered briefly to the man seated to his immediate left. This man was whispering something quietly to Quirrell while focusing on Harry with a distain far too reminiscent to Vernon's cold hate filled glares.

This pale, sharp featured man's eyes locked with Harry's, and for an instant it felt as if those black eyes were boring into Harry's head.

"Harry," Hermione, who was unaware of Harry's growing uneasiness, said quietly, "look at the stars."

For the first time since entering the Great Hall, Harry looked up and all anxieties left him. The ceiling of the Great Hall was by far the most magical of all enchantments Harry had seen yet. The room was lit in most part by hundreds of floating candles suspended and slightly bobbing here and there several feet in the air, and above that was something even more amazing. The ceiling faded into nothingness and opened to the night sky.

"It's bewitched," Hermione continued to whisper excitedly. "I read all about it in _Hogwarts: A History_."

Professor McGonagall once again stepped forward. She held an old brown hat shaped much like the pointed green one she wore. Waving her wand, a stool appeared from thin air.

"Each student will sit upon the stool when I call their name and put the Sorting Hat upon their head," she said. She placed the hat on the stool and pulled out a roll of parchment. She then looked down at the hat and waited.

At first Harry wondered if one of the first years was supposed to do something, or perhaps the Deputy Headmistress had forgotten what to say next. But then it happened: the Sorting Hat, once a motionless lump of cloth in McGonagall's hands, now began to move on its own, and from a tear near brim, it spoke in song.

"_**Though I sit upon your head nothing more than tethered tatters**_

_**Within my threads a power there makes me privy to what matters**_

_**From the Founders Four, life was given for one purpose met**_

_**A thousand years I've served and thousand I'll serve yet**_

_**For the Founders Four forever more wish all fortunes blessed**_

_**I sort the young to one of four, the House that they'll shine best:**_

_**Gryffindor are proud and brave; fear is fought and beaten**_

_**The Hufflepuff stay loyal and true to overcome all burdens**_

_**Slytherin use cunning tact to reach all of their ambitions**_

_**In Ravenclaw they treasure all that better their education**_

_**On this chair you sit, and this hat you wear will listen**_

_**For within your mind I will find the answer to one question**_

_**Consider all choices given and look amongst your piers**_

_**Which House of four do you belong, and will you serve for seven years?"**_

"Abbot, Hannah," McGonagall announced the first student's name once the song was complete.

Harry watched with great curiosity as each student before him took their turn to be sorted. The Sorting Hat sat quietly on each head until it yelled out the student's chosen House. Sometimes it would only take the briefest moment to choose and at other times it would take ages, but in either case, Harry never heard it speak in song again. Harry made special note when Hermione's rather long sorting placed her in Gryffindor, and when Draco was quickly placed in Slytherin before the hat could rest completely on his head.

Soon, the Patil twins were split up, one girl sorted to Ravenclaw and the other to Gryffindor. With Sally Anne Perk's placement in Hufflepuff, it became Harry's turn.

"Potter, Harry," McGonagall called.

There were several gasps heard throughout the student body when she read his name, followed by muffled conversations. Above all other noise, Hagrid cheered in support. Choosing to ignore the whispers, Harry walked to the stool and gave Hagrid a nervous smile and wave.

McGonagall set the hat atop his head, and a tingle of magic ran through Harry much like the one he felt from the wall in the lake. Then the hat did something unexpected. Instead of shouting a House name, it spoke aloud another short line of song, far more eerie than the one from before.

"_**Four Houses and one roof sit atop a cliff**_

_**The rocky ground they walk upon will shake from the smallest rift."**_

Harry turned his head for the Deputy Headmistress to explain why the hat chose to sing again, but she was as stunned as the rest of the Great Hall.

_What was that?_ Harry thought.

_A warning_, a disembodied voice spoke from within Harry's own mind.

"What?" Harry looked around for the source of the voice; _a warning from whom?_

_The Founders created me for more than just placing students into dorms_. It was the hat speaking, or rather the hat was thinking within Harry's head. Looking around again, it seemed to Harry that only he could hear it now. _When I sense danger to the castle, I am bound by the magic that made me to giving warning. When I was placed on your head, I felt the magic pull me._

_The magic pulled the Sorting Hat to give a warning…to me or about me? _Harry was sweating, his hands curled and uncurled into his robes. The students' hushed whispers, from the announcement of his name, grew much louder as the confusion continued.

_It could be either...it could be both. Something within you has triggered my magic to respond. The answer is here somewhere inside your head. You could embrace the danger, let it guide you. Beyond the brave front and need to belong, there's cunning, ambition; I can sense the Slytherin within you. _

Harry's thoughts snapped back to Ron's warning and Draco's placement in the Slytherin House.

_Are you sure? _The Sorting Hat continued to talk riddles of Harry's vague future. _Then will you be able to face what comes next? You'll need to be more than you are now: stronger, braver. Well, I can help with that._

"_**Gryffindor!"**_the Sorting Hat finally shouted.

The table to Harry's far left erupted in applause as McGonagall prompted Harry to remove the hat and make his way to the Gryffindor students.

"Rivers, Oliver," McGonagall called the next name on her list. The focus of the hall turned toward the newest student preparing to be sorted.

_Was that the test? _Harry did not understand. _Does the Sorting Hat talk in riddles to all the first years, and place them based on their answers?_

At Gryffindor table both Neville and Hermione were smiling back at him, waving him over to an empty seat. Harry put his worries aside and took his spot next to Hermione, just glad to have a place where he belonged.

* * *

><p>Several students later, the Sorting came to an end with Ron Weasley, the last of the first years, who was placed in Gryffindor. The boy ran to the table and was nearly tackled by two older twin red heads, who picked him up in a fierce hug.<p>

"Harry," Ron said excitedly, "we're in the same House!"

"Make way firsties," One of the twin boys said.

On the opposite side of the table as Harry, first years slide further down the bench as the twin brothers sat down with Ron between them.

"Headmaster," McGonagall said to the man seated in the center chair at the Head table.

"Thank you Minerva," said the Headmaster.

"That's Headmaster Dumbledore," One redheaded twin whispered to the first years around him. "He always likes to say a few words before we eat."

The Headmaster stood up from his chair with an ease uncharacteristic of someone his age. His left hand rose ever so slightly and the center table parted in the middle, before joining itself together once again after he had walked through. From the floor, a golden podium took shape.

"Dig in," Dumbledore followed his statement by clapping his hands together, summoning a banquet of food to appear on all of the tables in the Great Hall. The students began to fill their plates.

"Rather long winded bloke isn't he?" the twin on Ron's right said.

"Never thought he'd finish," said the twin on Ron's left.

"These are my brothers Fred and George," Ron introduced the twins by pointing to each as he said their name.

"Got it wrong again," the twin who apparently wasn't George spoke up.

"Today I'm George," the other twin continued.

"They're twins," Ron needlessly added.

"That was quite the interesting Sorting," Fred directed the conversation to Harry.

"The Sorting Hat's never broken into song twice," said George "Well, at least not in the last couple of years."

"Heard McGonagall when she came into the Great Hall too," Fred smiled wickedly. "You got her robes all in a twist before you were even sorted."

"Stick with this one Ron," George thumbed toward Harry. "I bet you'll have all sorts of fun."

"You nearly got us in trouble," Hermione frowned at Harry.

"He was just standing up to all that talk about blood and other nonsense," a first year boy next to George said. "What did he call it again?"

"Pureblood bigotry," the short Irish boy at their table laughed.

"Are you Muggle-born too?" Hermione asked.

"Nah, me mum's a witch," the Irish boy said. "Name's Seamus Finnigan, by the way." Seamus then pointed to the much taller first year next to him. "This here is Dean."

"Dean Thomas," The boy fully introduced himself. "Hard to say if I'm Muggle-born or not. Mum's a muggle, but dad took off on us before I ever knew to ask."

Harry and his friends ate and chatted about the train ride and what they looked forward to most about the upcoming year, until a girl from another table startled them.

"Ah!" a Hufflepuff first year screamed from the table next to Gryffindor.

Harry turned toward the direction of the scream. Most of the students at the Hufflepuff table were laughing. The first years, however, seemed either be surprised or scared. Harry followed their gaze upward and saw the cause of the commotion. Hovering among the floating candles was a rather chubby and rather translucent man.

"That's the Fat Friar," Fred explained to the Gryffindor first years. "He's the Hufflepuff ghost."

"All the Houses have one," George explained. "That's ours down there." George pointed toward the far end of the table, were the oldest Gryffindor students were talking amicably with another ghost. He then waved over the rather regal looking spectre.

"That's Nick," Fred said, referring to the ghost floating their way. "The other ghosts call him Nearly Headless Nick, but don't let him catch you calling him that; he hates it."

"Good evening and welcome to Gryffindor," Nick greeted the first years. "Sir Nicholas de Mimsey Porpington at your service."

"I've read about you," Hermione spoke up.

"And I look forward to getting to know each of you," Nick replied back, and then nodded toward the Head table, "but I believe the Headmaster wishes to speak."

Dumbledore was once again at the magically formed golden podium.

"To those of you new to this castle and school," he said while scanning the group of first years. "I am Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, your Headmaster. Welcome to Hogwarts. To everyone else, welcome back. Before we end the feast, I would like to address a few reminders to all students.'

"Class schedules will be handed out at breakfast tomorrow morning. Questions or changes regarding your schedule should be brought to the attention of you Head of House at that time.'

"Clubs will be allowed new membership beginning tomorrow, with sign-up sheets found outside the Great Hall until the end of the week. Anyone interested in forming new clubs should seek a professor as an official advisor.'

At the far end of the staff table, a rather unkempt man knocked his fork to his plate to get the Headmaster's attention.

"Rules," the man mumbled a reminder to the Headmaster.

"Ah," Dumbledore said in a pleasant tone, "it has come to my attention that Mister Filch has an updated list of banned items. You will find a copy posted on your House notice boards."

With a slight mirth in his eyes, Dumbledore looked back to Filch to see that he was satisfied. He then turned back to the students and paused with a much more solemn expression, before continuing to speak.

"I am sure you noticed the beautiful forest which surrounds much of the school," Dumbledore was again addressing the first years specifically. "We are fortunate to be blessed with a castle built on such a magically rich acreage of land. However, this has also drawn many dangerous magical creatures to the area, most of which reside within the forest. Therefore, the Forbidden Forest, as the name implies, is forbidden.'

"This year, I am also giving a warning to all students that the third floor corridor, on the right-hand side, is off limits to anyone not wishing to suffer a most painful death. Anyone found attempting to enter the area will be punished severely.'

"Now that unpleasantness is over," began Dumbledore. "I though perhaps we could end the evening with the school song. Professor McGonagall, would you care to lead us?"

McGonagall for her part only glared back at Professor Dumbledore.

"No?" Dumbledore questioned the professor. His eyes twinkled in the candlelight. "Pity, there's nothing quite like song to inspire and move one's spirits."

Across from Harry, the Weasley twins began to sing loudly in an unfamiliar and unpleasant tune.

"Splendid!" Dumbledore cheered before joining along in a rhythm and style completely different to the one the twins were singing.

None of the first years knew the words, but listened as the rest of the student body eventually joined in. When the twins finally finished their version of the song, which was much slower than all of the others, the students were dismissed and began to leave for their dorms.

"First years come with me," Percy Weasley said as he approached their end of the table. "I'll show you to the Gryffindor common room. Stay close and follow my instructions precisely; the stairs can be tricky."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: I got most of the introductions out of the way finally. I also got the set up for the rest of the story put down to words in this chapter. What did you think of the castle's description? Was it too much detail packed together, or not descriptive enough? Review and let me know!

**Next Chapter:** The Contender steps up.

Update: I've done a little touch up editing for preparation of continuing the story. It's been years, I know, but I'm back with a couple chapters ready to load up after a wonderful beta gets their hands on it.


	7. Chapter Seven: The Contender

**Chapter 7: Chapter Seven: The Contender**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the franchise of Harry Potter. The world and characters used in this story belongs to J.K. Rowling. Material has been altered to suit the needs of this fanfiction.

**Warning:** This story is rated M for strong language and graphic violence. Don't worry folks, it'll get there.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven:<strong>

**The Contender**

**...**

**The Forbidden Forest, 7 September 1991**

It was early Saturday morning after the first week of classes, when Harry was finally able to visit with Sirius while the man was out of his Animagus form. They were in the forest that surrounded Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry; the forest Headmaster Dumbledore labelled as forbidden, as it was far too dangerous for untrained wizard venture into. They were not too deep as to likely run into one of more vicious forest dwellers that lived within, but beyond the tree line just far enough to stay out of view from early rising students roaming the grounds. The sun was still low, and most of the castle's inhabitants were asleep, but Sirius had to be careful about not being spotted. Until this moment, Sirius spent his week at Hogwarts as a dog herding the animals under Hagrid's care. It was simple enough, and not without its own amusements; he'd lived through worse.

For Harry, the last week had been a whirlwind of classes, homework, and a castle that seemed more alive than not; it was quite the eye-opener for the Muggle-raised first year wizard. There had been too few moments Harry could visit with Sirius, and all of those moments were under the friendly but unwelcome eye of Hagrid. Forced to remain in the guise of Black Dog, Sirius had been unable to truly catch up with his godson, or provide answers to the many questions Harry had. Instead, they settled for walks along the Hogwarts ground and tea time at Hagrid's hut until better opportunity arose. This was how Sirius was only now finding out a rather shocking bit of news.

"Snape!" Sirius shouted before remembering to throw up a privacy spell. "Severus Snape: big nose, long greasy hair, smells like a spoiled Death-Cap Draught?"

"I don't know what that is," Harry said. He was surprised to receive this kind of reaction from Sirius.

"Of course Dumbledore made him a professor," Sirius said, frustrated. He began to pace. "He had to keep his stool pigeon close by." After moment Sirius stopped his pacing.

"How is he as a professor?" Sirius asked Harry with a slightly manic look. "Terrible? I bet he's terrible."

"He doesn't like Gryffindor much," Harry stated. "He's as likely to take away points for a Gryff sneezing too loudly as he's likely to award a Slytherin for remembering to wake up in the morning."

"Ha!" Sirius exclaimed. "Knew it! There's no way that stuck up Snake could work past his prejudice."

As far as Harry could tell, Sirius appeared to be glad Professor Snape was a bad teacher. Did Sirius _want_ Harry to have a bad Potions instructor? Sirius must have noticed Harry's confusion, because his look of triumph was replaced with one of grave apology.

"Snape attended school with your father and I," Sirius said. "There's bad blood between us, to say the least. Things were said and done that can't be taken back, and I regret my part in some of it. But he hated Prongs more than anyone else. I think he was jealous of him. I'm not sure if he ever really moved past it. Seeing the living, breathing Gemini Curse of his sworn enemy sitting in his own classroom, I can't see him taking it well.'

"He treating you alright?" Sirius quickly added.

Before Harry could answer, Sirius couldn't help but to coerce a smile out of Harry; he was always like that, never letting conversations get too dark for too long.

"How about the other professors?" Sirius said with a wink, "you driving ol' McGonagall batty yet?"

Harry thought back to his first week of wizarding school. Everything still felt so overwhelming since the moment he stepped through the magical barrier at Kings Cross. It wasn't until that first night, after Percy Weasley led Harry and his fellow first years through the winding halls of Hogwarts, up the flights of moving stairs, into the sanctuary of the Gryffindor common room, that he had a moment of peace to process it all.

* * *

><p><strong>Gryffindor Tower, 1 September 1991<strong>

Harry was taken to Gryffindor House, residing in the northeast tower of Hogwarts Castle, located on the seventh floor. The trip from the Great Hall, located on the ground floor, moved more swiftly than Harry thought possible, and he was sure there was magic involved in the ascent; he didn't remember traversing that many stairs. The entrance to his new dorm, hidden by a magical painting, revealed a circular sitting room large enough for the whole of Gryffindor house. Harry knew this as fact, as he waited in this room, along with the entirety of the Gryffindor student body, for his Head of House to appear.

Harry sat in a wooden chair, which was one of several matching four long tables. Harry imagined they were for studying during the term. Observing the upper year students, he noticed only the first years seemed to not be engaging in idle conversation. Perhaps they were the only group of students too drained and tired, most likely from their first rather daunting Hogwarts experience.

The oldest students were residing on the couches in front of the extravagant fireplace found on the far wall. On either side of the fireplace were large windows looking out into the starry night sky, both of which had a handful of students gazing out of them. Several other smaller sitting areas had a few students in them as well. Harry could make out the backs of Fred and George Weasley's heads as others laughed at bangs and pops coming from some magic or another out of his view. However, the majority of Gryffindor was still gathered near the common room door, or more precisely, gathered next to two spiraling stone staircases found on either side of it. The stairwells wound both below the common room and above it. The girls and boys were divided between the two.

Harry's reflection of the day was only broken when Neville decided to speak from the seat next to him.

"You're still hungry?" Neville asked alarmingly at Ron, who was sitting across the table from them.

"It's good," Ron mumbled, with his mouth full of a pastry he had pocketed from the Welcoming Feast.

"Oh that's gross," a pretty blonde first year said, turning to her cute dark haired friend. The two began to quietly whisper to each other, occasionally glancing at the other first years and then giggle.

"What do you suppose she's gonna tell us?" Dean Thomas asked the table of students. He was referring to the still absent Professor McGonagall.

"Probably givin' us a list a rules to follow," Seamus Finnegan supplied as an answer. "Bet she's wantin' to put some fear into us again like before the sortin'." Seamus looked at Harry before adding, "Think she might have another go at ya? Seems you know how to get her robes in a right bunch."

"I hope not," Hermione spoke up. Sitting to his left, she grabbed Harry's sleeve to get his attention. "Try to not get us in trouble. _Please_," she added.

This got Seamus laughing.

"You're alright by us Harry," Dean said, referring to Seamus and himself. Seamus nodded in agreement.

"Ya stood up to that Blonde ponce," Seamus said. "That's Gryffindor all the way."

"Malfoy's trouble," Neville rebutted. "I don't like him, but my gran says the Malfoy family is powerful. They can make your life difficult if you don't watch out."

"Dad can't stand the Malfoys," Ron piped in.

"Draco's just another first year like the rest of us," Harry said with more confidence than he actually felt. He wasn't use to standing up for himself or others. "I don't know where he gets the idea he's better than anyone else. I've met Lord Malfoy; he's alright, but I won't let my cousin push us around."

Harry couldn't help but question whether it was possible he was transferring some displeasure for one cousin onto another equally unlikable, yet skinner one. _No, Draco's a git_, Harry finally decided.

"So," a loud voice said from behind Harry, getting the attention of students around. "What you firsties whispering about?" Harry turned to find George and Fred Weasley, their game from the other side of the room obviously abandoned.

"Dreams of world domination?" one twin asked, giving him a wink.

"Nah George," the other said to his brother, "I bet their planning a dastardly scheme to spy what's so dangerous on that third floor corridor Dumbledore was going on about."

"Hoping to beat us to the punch?" George asked his brother in mock protest.

"I certainly hope not," Harry heard the unforgettable authoritative voice of Assistant Head Mistress McGonagall say from behind him.

She stood only a few steps away; students moved aside to give her room. The doorway to the common room was still swinging shut, but all eyes were already on her.

"The Forbidden Corridor is far too dangerous for students' exploration. I believe I've already made clear Hogwart's stance on rule breakers. Isn't that so Mr. Potter?"

The room was quiet. The students waited in anticipation to see what would happen.

"Ah," George said, forcing McGonagall to transfer her stare to himself. "Rule breakers? No, _ha_… no one like that here."

"Rule _benders_ at best," Fred added with a nod, capturing McGonagall's attention. "Honestly, just little jest between students."

"All hypothetical, you know, intellectual banter amongst conspiring minds," George continued his brother's thought. McGonagall pursed her lips at his statement.

"You mean _aspiring_ minds," Hermione mechanically corrected Fred, receiving a couple glares from students.

"That too," George quipped, getting a few snickers in response.

McGonagall gave each twin a hard look, stopping their game of words.

"That as it may be," McGonagall said, using volume to turn the conversation into one directed at the whole house, "I do not want to hear from other faculty about trouble from my Lions.'

"We are proud," She went on. "We are a house for the brave. We take action when others do not. Gryffindor is a house of leaders, but do not confuse bravery with rash judgment and the willingness to take needless risks. This is not a house for the foolish.'

Her focus then moved to Harry. He withered a bit in his seat when it did.

"We've had quite the day Mr. Potter," McGonagall said with a slight frown. "I hope this isn't a sign for the year ahead."

Seeing that the discussion was over, her features softened and her eyes wandered over the other new first years.

"Now onto other matters," McGonagall said. "As you now know, I am not only your Assistant Head Mistress, but your Head of House as well. For your remainder at Hogwarts I will serve as your adviser," she paused, looking pointedly at Fred and George then finally resting on Harry, "and in some cases, disciplinarian. I will assist you in structuring classes and mapping your carrier path. Together, we will work diligently to meet the expectations held for the House of Gryffindor.'

McGonagall moved closer to the fireplace, motioning with her wand to a spot above the mantle where the Gryffindor crest hung. Her wand gave a blue glow and the crest shimmered, revealing a large zero hovering just in front of it.

"This is a tally of our current House Points. Doing well earns points; misdeeds remove them. At the spring term's end, the winner amongst the four houses shall be presented the House Cup. I know many of you were rather disappointed with the results last year. Do not weigh heavily on what could have been. This is a new year and a new chance. I expect all of my Lions to do the house proud.'

With another wave of her wand, the zero disappeared.

"Now off to bed with you," McGonagall said as a dismissal. "Class schedules will be handed out at breakfast. Prefects escort the first years to their dorms and make sure they are situated comfortably."

Harry and the other first year boys were led to the left staircase, and the girls were dragged off to the right. Traveling down five levels, Percy the Prefect pointed out the large bath the first and second year boys shared. Another level down, they reached Harry's new dorm.

The room was large, a half circle with five four-poster twin sized beds along the curve, spaced apart with windows between each. On the other side, against the straight wall, there were five desks. Harry was about to ask which bed his dorm mates wanted, but then saw the trunks. His was at the foot of the bed second furthest from the stairs.

On one side of him, Neville pulled out long robed pajamas from his trunk. Bouncing on the bed at the end, Ron excitedly noted the view of the Quidditch Pitch from his window. Harry glanced out of it. They were just a floor above ground level, but the hill which the castle sat on, rose above the field leading to the forest beyond.

_No flying until summer_, the thought finally hit Harry. It was the only downside to his stay at Hogwarts, but it was worth it. He was away from the Dursleys, and he still had Sirius thanks to some initiative on Hagrid's part. Harry peered out the window again. Somewhere on the grounds was his godfather. With that pleasant thought, Harry went to his own bed and fell asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>Gryffindor Tower, 2 September 1991<strong>

Morning came and Harry didn't know what to do with himself. He was an early riser thanks to the Dursleys, but without chores to do, he found himself with more than an hour before breakfast began. As breakfast was not formal, students had two hours to come and leave as they pleased.

_Three hours to kill before classes, what am I going to do with myself until then? _Harry wondered.

Harry thought about finding Hagrid's hut. He wanted to see Sirius, but Harry feared he'd get lost wandering aimlessly through the castle grounds. He finally settled for showering and then taking a slow walk back down to the Great Hall, planning to become familiarize with that route at the very least.

The other first year boys were still asleep by the time Harry was dressed and heading out on his own. Once in the common room, he spotted a couple older girls reading, with their backs to each other while sitting on a sofa. He was glad that he wasn't the only one up; he felt less _abnormal_.

"Harry," someone spoke. Harry looked to the other side of the room and found Hermione's head peeking out around the side of a winged back chair. "You couldn't wait either? I tried going back to bed, but I'm just too nervous."

Harry tried not to smile too large at the sight before him. Hermione, despite her admission that she couldn't sleep, looked exhausted. Her eyes were half open and her hair was bushier than the day before.

"I was thinking about walking down to the Great Hall," Harry explained his plan. "I thought I would make sure I knew the way to and from the dorm if nowhere else."

"Oh!" Hermione said. "That's a great idea. You mind waiting? I'll join you."

Without stopping for reply, Hermione ran down the girls' staircase. It was only a few minutes later when she returned, appearing much more awake, with an overflowing book bag in tow.

"Ready?" she asked.

Harry, who had been nose deep in _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection__**, **_marked his spot and placed the book in his own satchel. He would finish the book soon; of all the books he purchased in Diagon, this was by far the most interesting. He had just twenty or so pages to go. That still left two more books from his Hogwarts list. He was only half way through his Potions book, and he hadn't made it past the second chapter in _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration. _With Professor McGonagall as his new Head of House, Harry decided Transfiguration would be the next subject on his agenda.

He was still worried from his meeting in the book store with Luna Lovegood. She told him of another first year who had already read the assigned books and had fetched for more. Attempting to not fall too far behind the rest of his class, Harry took to reading any chance he had, barring his time with Sirius and his chores around Number 4.

He began with the thick tome of _Hogwarts: A History_, by far the most daunting of the reading list, and then followed it with Potions. He thought he'd have the most luck with the subject due to his time cooking for the Dursleys. He instead found himself continually referencing his Herbology guide to get a better grasp on some of the more unusually named potion ingredients, eventually abandoning the Potions text altogether to finish Herbology. By the time he was through, thanks to Sirius's training, Harry was more confident with his ability to perform magic and his curiosity for Charms got the better of him. With less than a week before the term, he was left with three remaining books. Sirius's talks of the Forbidden Forest lead Harry to initially reading his Defense book purely out of precaution. He was immediately absorbed by the study, and it was this subject he looked forward to most of all.

Still, Luna's words combined with years of self-doubt, plaguing his thoughts. Was he good enough? How far would he be behind the other students? He was raised as a Muggle and started practicing magic with Sirius only a month ago. Would he be ready?

"Ready," Harry replied, heading for the door.

A couple hours later, Harry and Hermione were joined by the rest of their first year classmates in the Great Hall. Ron, the last to arrive, was shoveling bangers in his mouth two at a time to make up for his late showing at breakfast. Hermione tried to ignore Ron's poor manors by busying herself with the first year class schedule, relieved to find they all shared the same timetable but for one class.

"Why aren't you taking _Introductory to Wizardry_?" Hermione asked Pavarti Patil, comparing their lists.

Pavarti only shrugged. Looking to the other first years, none seemed to have an answer. Dean tapped the shoulder of an older boy to ask if he knew.

"That's only for Muggle-borns," the older boy replied. "It's a first year course taught by the Muggle Studies professor; catches you lot up to speed as it were. Mum said it started as a club back when she was here; seems to think it a good idea turning it into an official class."

Hermione nodded and returned to putting their schedule down to memory. Harry was glad someone was going to take the effort to do so. Their schedule was all over the place. It seemed each class was only held twice a week on alternating days, with no two days alike. The exceptions to the two day rule seemed to be that Muggle to Wizard class, which was only on Friday afternoons, and Astronomy, occurring once a week at midnight, well past curfew. This left odd hours of free time during the day that had both Seamus and Ron excited.

Harry and Hermione were the only two first year Gryffindors to consider bringing their book bags to breakfast. So it came as no surprise to find they were the first of their house to arrive in the Transfiguration room for their first class of the year. Three Ravenclaws shuffled in behind them, so Hermione hurried to sit down, insisting she and Harry sat in the front row as to not miss any details in Professor McGonagall's wand work.

While Hermione started lecturing about what she had read in her transfiguration book, Harry took in the room. He had to admit the room was a bit disappointing. Beyond the Latin base words written on the chalkboard, lack of electricity, and the curled up tabby, which would never have been permitted back in a Muggle school, this could be mistaken for any standard classroom he'd been in before.

When the last students came rushing through the door, the cat on the professor's podium leapt into the air and transformed into the Gryffindor Head of House. So caught off guard, Harry couldn't stop from speaking.

"You're an Animagus!" Harry exclaimed. _Whoops, there was something I'm not supposed to know anything about._

"Very good Mr. Potter," McGonagall said with mild surprise, "point to Gryffindor for reading ahead. First point for Gryffindor this year, I might add."

Hermione beamed at Harry's achievement for the house.

"If Misters Longbottom and Weasley would take their seats," McGonagall said to the boys last to enter the room, "we will start with an overview.'

"Transfiguration," McGonagall began, "is the art of transmuting one substance into another."

McGonagall tapped her podium with her wand, melting the podium with her spell. Harry watched as it rose back up from the ground again as a miniature apple tree which produced full sized fruit. She plucked an apple from its branch.

"Over the years spent in my classroom, you will learn both transfiguration spells and how to reverse the effects," she then touch the tree with her wand, and its branches and trunk shrunk and tightened until reverting back to the podium, "switching spells," her wand pointed at the held apple and it traded places with a wooden foot of the podium, "vanishment," she made the wooden nob in her hand disappear, "and conjuration," she directed her wand just behind the podium and a stool materialized from thin air.

She sat on the stool, and a large tome floated from her desk, opening itself on the podium.

"Now, if you'll turn your books to page six…"

It took Harry a moment to dig out the appropriate book from his bag and follow along to the reading. The rest of the period was filled with laws of transfiguration; Harry was disappointed he never drew his wand. Only Hermione seemed pleased with the lesson, mostly due to the points she had earned for her recollection of the text.

Harry kept his wand holstered in his next class as well. More than once he felt the urge to do otherwise to cast an angry Stinging Hex at his blonde cousin, not that he actually knew how to perform the spell yet. Draco hadn't hesitated with snide remarks toward the Gryffindors when they two houses met for their first Potions class. Egged on by the support of his fellow Slytherins, he gave Neville's cauldron a good bump with his book bag, causing the pot to bounce and roll noisily across the dungeon the class resided in.

When Professor Snape swept into the room, black robes billowing, Harry assumed that would be the end of it, at least for the duration of the lesson, however, Draco's confidence only bolstered with Slytherin Head of House's blatant bias. Snape targeted poor Neville for a series of questions only Hermione seemed to know the answers to. When Draco teased Neville for his inability to answer any of them correctly, Snape removed points from Gryffindor, accusing Neville of talking in class. With that, Gryffindor had lost all the points Harry and Hermione had earned in Transfiguration.

On the bright side, not that there was much room for that sort of thing in the dark, dank dungeon, Harry was allowed to practice magic in the form of his first potion. Harry found his comparison of the art of brewing to cooking for the Dursleys was not far off the mark. Vernon liked his coffee precisely a quarter cream, egg poached just so, and his delicate yet ravenous palate could detect the slightest variations to Harry's food preparations, or at least Vernon claimed as much. The half turns and specific cuttings listed on the board were not so far off from familiar conditions on Privet Drive.

In the end, the concoction within Harry's cauldron resembled the smoky blue paste of the Burning Bitterroot Balm the Potions Master left out as example. Looking up from his station, Harry checked to see how his fellow Gryffindors were doing. Brow furrowed, Hermione had her balm in a glass cylinder, critically judging it for texture and color. From what he could tell, it looked much like his own. Neville was frantic, and Harry feared the worse for the pudgy boy's potion project. Next to him, Ron appeared bored; He was drumming a half cut bitterroot against the table as he watched his cauldron boil.

Harry took a chance glance at the Slytherins gathered on the other side of the room. Snape was busy guiding the few Slytherins struggling with their potion work. Judging by the mess of bitterroot chunks around Crabbe and Goyle's stations, Snape would have to take a very hands-on approach with them if he wanted to keep up Slytherin House's superiority in the class. Draco seemed to be complete with his assignment, and judging by his proud smirk, he did more than a fair job.

_Well, that's disappointing_, Harry thought.

There was a sizzle and a pop catching the class's attention. Harry looked over his shoulder to see an ash faced Seamus standing over a ruined cauldron. Slytherins laughed heartily once they saw what transpired. Gryffindor House did their best to suppress their smiles at how silly the boy looked, a job made easy by Professor Snape's removal of another five points for an exploded potion and another point because Dean looked like he might to talk back. It wasn't surprising at this point. Nearing the end of lesson, Snape had removed at least one point from every Gryffindor except Harry. In fact, it was as if Harry didn't exist at all. Never once did Snape remove a point, look over his work, or ask him a question.

* * *

><p><strong>The Forbidden Forest, 7 September 1991<strong>

"Snape didn't say anything to you at all?" Sirius asked after Harry told him about the first Potions class.

"Nope," Harry said, still puzzled by the experience, "might as well been one of the ghosts."

"I don't like it," Sirius said before catching himself, "That is, I'm glad he's not taking points and giving out zeroes for your work, but a quiet Snape is a dangerous Snape; that's what I don't like."

Sirius could tell he was making Harry nervous.

"Look," Sirius said, "just keep doing what you're doing. Stay off his radar and keep an eye out."

Sirius leaned back against a tree to relax, and smiled when he caught Harry mimicking his posture. Looking at him now, hidden in the forest, breaking rules in a Hogwarts robe, he couldn't help but picture Prongs.

"McGonagall's got to be going grey," Sirius said aloud.

"She doesn't seem _that_ old," Harry said.

Sirius gave a deep barking laugh.

"Not what I meant," Sirius said, still smiling. "So, didn't used your wand the whole week?"

"Charms," Harry answered. "Professor Flitwick taught us the Levitating Charm just like you said he would. I like him," Harry added about the diminutive Ravenclaw Head of House.

"Glad to know he's still around," Sirius said. "He taught me and your dad, though your mum was his favorite, no question. Listen well; he knows his stuff. He's got a quick draw too."

"And a nose like a goblin," Harry chimed in, not understanding Sirius properly.

"No," Sirius said with a big grin, "well, _yes_,he does…but what I mean is he's a hell of a dueler. He used to do the circuit years back. So, did you impress him?"

"First to get it," Harry proudly said, talking about casting the Levitation Charm. "Gave me five points; said he'd never seen someone learn it faster."

Harry beamed. He wasn't used to praise in classroom. Just last year, he still had to be sure to test worse than Dudley, who was rather a dunderhead when it came to school work.

"Earned back some of those points Snape took from Gryffindor?" Sirius asked.

"Yeah," Harry answered back. He frown thinking about that first Potions class. "Hermione earned a couple points from Flitwick as well. She got the spell not long after I did, and I'm pretty sure she's got the whole year's list of books memorized."

"Hermione," Sirius rounded on Harry, "that your new girl is it?"

Sirius enjoyed the frustrated look on Harry's face.

"Just giving you a hard time pup," Sirius said, rubbing Harry's mop of hair. Switching topics, he said, "Take a look at the Forbidden Corridor yet?"

"No," Harry could sense where this was going, "and I'm not planning on it either."

"Come on Harry," Sirius teased the boy, "you have to do something to keep things interesting. You really think classes are going to do it for you? Looking forward to great adventurous lessons with that bore of a history professor?"

"I think Perks has a thing for Binns," Harry commented on his classmate's fascination with Professor Binns, a ghostly wizard who had died, but never gave up the post.

Sirius rolled his eyes at the absurdity.

Sally Anne Perks, a mousy Hufflepuff, tried to bombard the dead professor with questions about ghosts, until she realized he wasn't paying her any attention. In fact, he didn't stop his monotone lecture for anything. Ron joked that the professor probably died from boredom listening to his own monolog.

"But everyone else just sleeps through it," Harry continued. "Herbology class isn't all that exciting either, might as well be gardening back at Privet Drive," He said. "The names though, they're killer. Hermione and Neville didn't stop talking about one exotic plant after another. We're supposed to know them all by the end of the year. Dean says we should just copy off Neville; he's got the class in the bag."

"What of the rest of it?" Sirius was referring to Harry's other classes and activities over the last week. He liked it whenever Harry just opened up like this.

"We're all lost in Latin," Harry said. "Well, Susan Bones would be alright. She knew a bit going in, but she spends too much time chatting about _Unicorns_ with the other Hufflepuff girls to pay attention to the professor."

"But I _am_ pretty good at Mathamagics," Harry continued going through the classes one by one.

Mathamagics was the first and second year subject taught by Professor Septima Vector. One of the eldest professors in the castle, she was better known to the school as the Arithmancy Professor, Arithmancy beginning in third year.

'Nerd," Sirius jested.

"It's all based on stuff I already learned in primary," Harry defended himself, "mostly algebra put into formulas relating to magic. I understand transfiguration a little better, that's for sure."

"Again I say _nerd_," Sirius said. "You look like James, but you got Lily's brains."

"Good," Harry said, becoming serious. "Professor Vector says Mathamagics is the basis for her Arithmancy class. You got to know that, combined with runes, to understand wards. Then I can figure out the protections around Privet Drive and how to get away from the Dursleys."

"Sounds like a plan," Sirius said. Nothing stopped a determined Potter with a plan. "I take it back; you got a bit of your dad in there too. I'll help you where I can."

"One full week," Sirius said after a moment of comfortable silence, "and all you have to show for it is the Levitation Charm. Seems like a slow start at the castle. What say we practice something new?"

"You're going to teach me another spell?" Harry asked with more than a little excitement in his voice.

"A couple of them," Sirius said. "Good ones too. I don't like the idea of Snape holding a position where he can get you cornered alone. He's nosy, and he knows how to dig for information. You remember what I said about really good Quidditch players reading you for your next move?" Sirius waited for confirmation from Harry. "Snape can do it too; better than most I'd imagine."

"He played Quidditch?" Harry asked. "No wonder you all hated each. Our team rivalry is pretty serious already, and the season hasn't begun yet."

"No," Sirius said, understanding Harry's confusion. "He didn't play, but what he does," he paused, "what some wizards can do is more than read pupil dilation and check for tells. It's called _Legilimancy_. It's not exactly mind reading, but it's not exactly _not_ mind reading either. Follow?"

Harry didn't need to respond for Sirius to know the answer was "no".

"A Legilimens can peer into another wizard's memories. Most can only scratch the merest surface of another's mind, like a glimpse of a blurry photo; it'd take a wand to get the full picture. But some, like your Professor Snape, can pull those memories and interpret them with great efficiency.'

"There are ways to block a Legilimens, even one as strong as Snape. You can train your mind to stop the intrusion; the practice is called _Occulmency_. You've got the basics down. You've been practicing since I found you; I just didn't give you the name for it. Remember to clear your thoughts like you did playing cards. It also wouldn't hurt to keep your head down and hope he continues to not look you in the eye."

Harry was worried. If Snape could see into his mind, he'd see Sirius; he'd discover their secret, and Sirius would be taken away.

"You'll be fine. You've got the tools necessary to keep Snape out. Only way he's breaking into that thick skull of yours is by casting the Legilimancy Spell to strength his power on you. No way he's stupid enough to pull a wand on a student."

"So, if I'm safe from that," Harry said, still unsure about facing a mind reader twice every week, "what are you going to teach me?"

"Well," Sirius began, "if he can't see into your head, I wouldn't put it past him to take a look into your wand."

Harry tipped his wand up to take a good look, trying to figure out how someone could see _inside_.

"It's a spell Harry," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "_Priori Incantato_; it reveals the last series of spells cast on your wand through spectral images. You're going to need to know that, to summon those images, before I teach you the spell to remove them without a trace."

"Remove them by casting a spell with my wand?" Harry asked. "Wouldn't it just leave _that_ spell on my wand?"

"Good deduction skills Harry," Sirius answered back, "but in this case no, that's the beauty of the Eradication Spell; it removes all lingering traces of magic, including its own.

"Oh," Harry said, unable to remove all traces of disappointment.

"Hoping for something with a bit more fireworks?" Sirius asked.

"Yeah," Harry started but then changed his mind, "no. I mean to say, I want to learn the Eradication Spell; it's the most important spell I could learn if it protects you from being discovered. But I _was_ hoping to learn something a bit more…" Harry stopped to think about his wording, "dueling related?"

"Dueling?" Sirius laughed. "You won't take a look at the Forbidden Corridor, but you'll get in a wand fight? Plan on challenging anyone I know?"

"He challenged me," Harry said, "I didn't accept, but he didn't really let me say no either."

"Dueling is dangerous Harry," Sirius's warning lost some merit by the gleam in his eye and the growing smile on his face.

Harry raised an eyebrow at his godfather. The man lived for danger, like exploring off limits sections of the castle. He expected Harry to get up to no good while he was at school too; before Harry left Privet Drive, Sirius made him solemnly swear to that very thing.

"As your godfather," Sirius said, while putting his hand over his heart, "it's my responsibility to look after your well-being, and I know Lily would have my hide if I didn't tell you things like that every now and then. My promise to Prongs, on the other hand, was to make sure you had some fun. So, who are we dueling?"

"Draco," Harry practically spat the name, "cornered me outside Defense of the Dark Arts."

"Wondered why you hadn't mentioned that class yet," Sirius said. "I figured it'd be your favorite for sure."

"It is," Harry said. "Quirrell's a little odd, but the class is great; it's got the best book of the lot too." Sirius waited for Harry to elaborate. "But it's right across the hall from History of Magic with the Ravenclaws and Slytherins.'

"Quirrell gave Hermione a couple points right at the end as we were walking out of class, and there was Draco, ready to dish out another insult; called her a Mudblood again. That only started Ron and Seamus off. Somehow the conversation stopped being about Hermione and more about Slytherin verse Gryffindor. Next thing I know, Draco's challenging me to a duel at midnight, like Ron and Seamus weren't even there. Of course Fridays are Astronomy nights, so it got pushed to tonight.'

"Hermione says I shouldn't go. She doesn't want me to get in trouble or lose house points. I didn't have the heart to remind her that technically I'm the only one of us left who hasn't lost a point yet. Honestly, I don't want to go either."

"It's okay to be afraid of a duel Harry," Sirius tried to comfort his godson. "Draco is a Malfoy, who knows what he was taught before coming to Hogwarts."

"I'm not afraid of Draco," Harry stood up a little straight. "I just don't trust him. I've seen his kind back in Little Whinging. He isn't the type to act with violence first; he's got Crabbe and Goyle for that."

"You think it's a trick," Sirius stated. "You're probably right. That does sound more like a Malfoy."

"So what do I do?" Harry asked.

"The best way to fight someone like Draco is to out trick the trickster," Sirius said, "but just in case the duel does happen, we'll save the Eradication Spell for tomorrow. I'm going to teach you the Disarming Charm instead. Just pray you don't get caught breaking rules until after the weekend."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: And I'm back after only a short few years (whoops). If you've read the chapter before this, you may have noticed I edited it a bit. It's all cosmetic, so no fear of missing out on new or altered plot.

**Next Chapter:** I'm calling it "Duel-Split". Originally, the chapter you just read was called "the Duel that Didn't Happen". It was lame and I deleted it all. Honestly, after writing it, I felt too much happened too quickly and things could be fleshed out for a more enjoyable story, so I started completely over. Then I got to writing and it became something like 11, 000 words. With some heavy editing, I split the whole thing into two separate chapters, longer than they were when joined. So, Duel-Split is like the brother wand to the Contender: completely different, but connected.


	8. Chapter Eight: Duel-Split

**Chapter 8: Chapter Eight: Duel-Split**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the franchise of Harry Potter. The world and characters used in this story belongs to J.K. Rowling. Material has been altered to suit the needs of this fanfiction.

**Warning:** This story is rated M for strong language and graphic violence.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eight:<strong>

**Duel-Split**

…

**Hogwarts, 7 September 1991**

Harry Potter resurfaced from the Forbidden Forest to join his fellow Gryffindors in time for dinner. His claim of spending the Saturday at Hagrid's was generally accepted by the other first years. After all, each of them had caught Harry down there at one point or another during the last five days of school. Hopefully that story would hold as he continued his little training sessions with his godfather through the semester.

The first years' dinner conversation revolved mostly around the pending duel between Harry and Draco Malfoy, and it continued back in the Gryffindor tower. Initially, boisterous talk including traveling with Harry to the sight of the duel, but as time got closer to curfew, excuses were made. Only Ron remained unflinching in his insistence on accompanying Harry to face Draco, designating himself as Harry's _Second_. Harry decided that was much better than attempting to sneak around with all of Gryffindor along with him, and he felt better knowing he wouldn't be completely on his own.

By ten to eight, Harry was in his dorm. Dean and Seamus were acting out a pretend duel, adding what they thought could be helpful tips in his battle against Draco. It mostly included wild gesturing and Slytherin related insults. Ron was watching carefully, most likely in case he needed to step in for Harry, as his role as Second could require in a traditional duel. Harry checked his watch again. There was still over an hour until their curfew, but he decided he'd better leave the dorm now if he was going to sneak away without much difficulty; he and Ron would then hide outside the tower until midnight.

Before Harry stood from his bed, Neville decided to approach.

"Harry," Neville nervously said. "I…I don't think you should go."

"What?" Ron said. He turned on his bed to face Neville. "Why not? Don't you want Harry to make that loud mouth eat his words?"

Neville's shoulders dropped as he was losing what little confidence he had.

"I just don't want Harry to get in trouble," Neville protested, though he was no longer making eye contact. "You know how McGonagall watches him. We could lose a lot of house points."

"Worth it," Seamus said.

"Malfoy needs to be knocked down a peg," Dean explained. "He does what he wants under the protection of his father's name, and Snape gives him free rein in Potions. No one else stands up to him. They're too afraid. Did you see those Hufflepuffs move out of his way at breakfast?"

"We let it go and it'll get worse," Seamus said. "If Harry does somethin' about it now, maybe he'll knock it off."

"Or he'll retaliate," Neville said quietly.

"Besides," Ron said, ignoring Neville's reasoning. He stood up and walked over to Harry. "We only lose points if we get caught. Right, Harry?"

"Right," Harry said. He gave an apologetic look to Neville. "But if we don't want to get caught, we better get going."

Neville looked like he wanted to protest more, but he let Harry and Ron leave without another word while the other boys wished them luck. Making his way through the common room, Harry saw Fred and George send a conspiratorial grin his way. At the last minute, just as Harry headed out the door, he heard a whistle. Following the sound, he saw the twins' year mate, Lee Jordan, give a thumbs up.

Harry and Ron walked quickly through the castle to the third floor, being sure to avoid anyone on their way. It wasn't yet curfew, but the last thing Harry wanted to do was answer questions.

To their left, down the hall, was the Forbidden Corridor. Harry stared at the archway leading to it; _adventure_, Sirius called it. Harry shook his head. He'd be having enough adventure for one night. He nudged Ron and they headed right, toward the Trophy Room. Nearly there, Harry stopped short of the room and started rapping his hand along one side of the hallway.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked Harry. "The Trophy Room is right there."

"I'm looking for a hiding spot that will let us see Draco coming," Harry told Ron.

"By tapping the wall?" Ron questioned. "We can just shut the doors and wait inside. When he shows, we'll know."

"I didn't want to say anything to the others," Harry told him, "but I don't think Draco is going to fight fair. I think he has a plan, and I want to be prepared."

"Malfoy is the type," Ron agreed.

"Exactly," Harry said. "Now help me look. There's supposed to be an alcove here masked by magic." Ron joined him checking one stone at a time. Half a dozen stones later, Harry's hand went straight through. "Here it is."

They both stepped past the false stone. Sirius said it was going to be a tight fit, but two first years were small enough they could both squeeze in and still have a view of the hall.

"Nice find Harry," Ron said as he stepped out from the hidden space, "but I'm not waiting hours in there."

He had a point; the spot was too cramped to stand in for too long. So, Harry decided to go ahead and take a look at the Trophy Room, at least until closer to curfew. The boys entered and then split up, walking down shelves of trophies. Every once in a while, Ron would snicker and point out an amusing name but mostly they both stayed quiet.

The Trophy Room had a several rows of awards, all shapes and sizes. They were arranged in circular pattern to form rings, one row within the next, which left the middle with a wide open space big enough for a large gathering of wizards. At the very center, the House Cup rested on a pedestal. It wouldn't be hard to move it to the side. Harry assumed Draco planned for the duel, if there were to be one, to take place there. Looking closer at the House Cup, the award's base was engraved with a list previous winning houses and the years they won. For the last six years Slytherin House had been the victor.

_Six straight losses to Slytherin explain all the focus on winning points for Gryffindor_, Harry decided. _I'll have to do my best to not let us fall behind._

_After tonight, _Harry added in addendum.

Harry let his eyes wander back to the other awards in the room. Stacked high along the shelves, many of them appeared ancient; a few in dire need of repair. Harry made note of a particularly tarnish chalice, dated 1671, awarded to an Elladora Ketteridge after she set the school record for holding her breath under water longest.

_57 minutes? _Harry questioned silently._ I guess it isn't considered cheating if you use magic to win a contest held in a magical school._

_Clang!_

The sound of metal crashing against the stone floor reverberated throughout the room. Harry rushed down the aisles of shelves to investigate the noise. He found Ron holding a large engraved silver tray.

"Sorry Harry," Ron said, putting the trophy back in its place. Ron cringed as he saw the prominent dint put into it from the fall. "Sorry Tom," Ron added after reading the name of awardee.

"Come on," Harry said, heading towards the door. "We better get to our hiding spot. Someone might have heard."

Getting as comfortable as they could in their small nook, the boys settled in for a long wait.

"Harry," Ron eventually spoke up.

They'd been hidden a couple hours now. At one point, Ron managed to take a brief nap while still standing. When he awoke, he was rather disappointed to find such little time had passed. Still over an hour away from midnight, both boys were getting antsy.

"Yeah?" Harry said back.

"It's a bit creepy, don't you think?" Ron asked. "This spot I mean," Ron gestured with his head.

"Yeah," Harry replied. Were there other spots like this in the castle, places where anyone could watch the students without their knowledge?

After several moments, Ron had another thought.

"Harry?"

"Yeah, Ron?"

"Do you think there's one of these in the girl's showers?"

The reply on Harry's tongue was cut short when he heard footsteps coming toward them. There was a scurry of lithe paws as a mangy cat, fur like a used duster, yellow shinning eyes haughty and mean, appeared from around the bend. Mrs. Norris, the dutiful familiar to the Hogwarts Caretaker Argus Filch, held an impeccable reputation for catching students breaking rules. It was this cat Sirius warned Harry to be mindful of most while on his after dark mission.

Soon enough, her master joined her side. The decrepit man squinted to see down the long hallway, more hindered than aided by the blinding light from the lantern in his hand. Harry imagined Filch relied on Mrs. Norris more than he's own senses on his nightly patrols.

"Got somethin'?" Filch asked his cat.

Watching the feline carefully, Harry noticed Mrs. Norris seemed alert. Her ears angled different directions, picking up noises beyond human capability.

_Can she hear us breathing?_ Harry feared the possibility. A glance to Ron told him the other boy was worried as well.

Fortunately, whatever it was she heard, it took her sprinting back the way she came in.

"Looks like we got ourselves a fresh one," Filch said, shuffling after her.

"That was too scary Harry," Ron said, once they could no longer hear Filch's footfall.

"I heard about Mrs. Norris," Harry said, "but I didn't know a cat could be so terrifying."

"I wonder if…" Ron stopped talking, hearing a new noise. "You hear that? You think its Filch coming back?"

Harry listened carefully to the sounds of the castle.

"No," Harry answered. "It's coming from the other direction, I think."

What began as muffled noise grew into whispers of conversation, and Harry could see the outline of five shadowy figures emerging from the darkness.

"Just shut up," the distinct voice of Draco Malfoy said. "We're here. So, stop complaining."

"All I'm saying," another boy spoke, "is why didn't we just inform Professor Snape that Potter would be out and leave it to the Professor?"

"Because," Draco said rather forcefully, but then paused to think of a reason, "Snape would expect us to deal with our own problems. We can handle Potter ourselves; it's what Snape would want."

"Snape don't seem to treat Potter the same like the other Gryffs," a third boy pointed out.

Harry could see them clearly now. That was Crabbe who had just spoken.

_Or is that Goyle, making Crabbe the fat one in the back?_ Harry still wasn't sure which was which. They seemed to share the same brain, so it didn't really matter.

"He's not like the others," the other half-brain said. "Heard he tamed a giant when he was five."

"That's just a bedtime story," the lone girl in the group, Pansy Parkinson said. "You don't actually believe that do you? I honestly don't see why everyone's so taken with him. Did you see the clothes he was wearing in the Prophet photos last month? They were _Muggle_."

"He was raised by them," Draco said in disgust. "Didn't know what the Floo was when father found him. He's no better than a Mudblood and they're treating him like a celebrity."

"He did defeat the Dark Lord," Blaise Zabini drawled. "That sort of thing does make one news worthy."

"As if Potter could truly stop the Dark Lord," Draco scoffed. "I'll show him who the better wizard is. Then, he'll recognize what I can do."

"Are we talking about Potter or your father?" Blaise said, while giving Draco a calculating look.

"You forget you're speaking to a Malfoy, Zabini," Draco challenged Blaise's stare.

"Fine," Blaise said, backing down first. "So, you've got us here; now what?"

"We embarrass Potter so badly he'll never live it down," Draco explained. "Crabbe and Goyle will wait by the door and grab him when he comes into the room. You and Pansy will hide behind the shelves to curse him if he tries anything. Then I'll show Potter a spell father taught me. I think you'll enjoy it, Blaise. After that, we'll drag him down to the Great Hall and leave him for the rest of the school to discover at breakfast."

"Five on one?" Blaise asked. "I thought you said he was no better than a Muggle."

"He isn't," Draco argued, "but odds are he brings the rest of those dimwit Gryffs with him."

They Slytherins continued to bicker as they entered the room. Every now and again Harry could still hear Draco give out an order. Meanwhile, Harry tried to figure out what to do.

Not knowing what Draco would come up with, Sirius and Harry brainstormed possible scenarios and planned an exit strategy. If all else failed, Harry could just go back to bed, but tomorrow Draco would have everyone convinced Harry was too afraid to face him.

"Any ideas?" Ron asked.

"Not any good ones," Harry said. "The best plan I heard all night was Blaise's. We should have just told a professor Draco would be in the Trophy Room after hours." Harry paused for a moment. _Actually, that's still not a bad idea._ _This could work_, Harry thought. "We could get Filch."

"What?!" Ron asked, the inflection in his voice letting Harry know just how stupid he thought the idea to be. "You're barmy. Filch would have us hanging by our ankles in the dungeons before we could get out a single word."

"I'm not saying we walk right up to him," explained Harry. "We just get his attention somehow so he'll take another look this way."

"Oh," Ron said, coming around to the idea. "Well, I can do that."

Ron hurried from the safety of their hiding spot, with Harry following from behind. Ron ran until he reached the arched opening of the hall that led to the main stairs. Seeing Filch's lantern light one flight up, Ron raised his wand.

"Learnt this from Fred," Ron proudly said.

"No Ron!" Harry exclaimed in a harsh whisper, but it was too late.

"_Periculum_!" Ron said, pointing his wand towards Filch's location.

Red sparks flew from Ron's wand. Spiraling and popping, the trail sizzling into smoke.

"Ron!" Harry said, getting the boy's attention this time. Grabbing the redhead by the robe, he pulled him back into the corridor.

"Did you hear that?" Pansy said, her voice carrying from the Trophy Room.

The door creaked open and Blaise poked his head out. Harry and Ron were able to lean flat against the wall, keeping just out of sight from Blaise.

"I don't see anything," Blaise said.

"Sounded like spell fire," Draco said.

A guttural meow echoed through the hall. Mrs. Norris was on her way.

"It's Filch's cat!" Blaise yelled back to his friends.

"Blast!" Draco cried. "We've been set up. It's that bastard Potter, I know it." Speaking louder, he yelled, "Show yourself Potter!"

"We don't have time for this," Blaise said to Draco. "We've got to get going. Crabbe, move."

Blaise ran past Goyle and pushed Crabbe down the hallway the opposite direction from the cat. Pansy chased off behind him.

"Draco," Blaise yelled, "catchup or you'll be toast. You too, Goyle."

"No." Draco started walking the other way, the way Harry and Ron happened to be hiding. "He did this. It's always him."

"Suit yourself," Blaise said, before turning down another hallway and out of sight. Crabbe and Pansy followed.

"Every day since August," Draco continued, "every day all I hear about is _Potter_: how _great_ he is. Father thinks him a powerful ally. A first year as father's ally! Can you imagine? But me, I'm not good enough, am I? Same age, raised like a Pureblood should, but it's Potter instead. Bollocks.'

Harry could now hear Filch coming as fast as his limping legs could carry him, lantern squeaking along in his grip.

"Why? Because the Dark Lord tried to kill a baby and buggered it up? I was born to be a general in the Dark Lord's army! Now it's arse about face, and it's all Potter's damned fault!"

"We're making a break for it," Harry whispered to Ron.

If they turned back the other way, there was a chance they could turn down a corridor and stay out of Filch's path. Draco might see them, but they'd have to risk it. Hopefully the boy was too caught up in his own tantrum to pay attention.

"Where are you Mrs. Norris?" Filch yelled for his pet. The cat let out another meow. "Stay on 'em, Mrs. Norris. It looks like it'll be a busy night!"

"Let's go," Ron said to Harry.

They both bolted. First turning left, then right again, they were starting to get turned around. Hopefully Draco was enough to distract Filch, but they kept moving to not risk it. As they reached a set of stairs, they were suddenly overcome by wand light.

"Harry," a young feminine voice spoke, "There you are."

"Hermione?" Harry asked, still trying to adjust his eyes to the glow from her wand.

"Hermione," Ron said excitedly, "glad to see you. Wait 'til you hear what happened to us."

"Not now Ron," Harry reminded him, "We've got Filch on our tail. I'm sure Draco's got him on the hunt for us by now." As an afterthought he added, "Hermione, put out your light."

"_Nox_," Hermione said, and the light died.

"Thanks," Harry said to Hermione for complying. "Let's get back to the Tower."

Harry began heading down the flight of stairs.

"Harry," Hermione said. She was not following him. "The entrance is up, not down."

"That's the direction Filch will head if he's looking for us," Harry explained. "If we go down to the first floor, I've heard about another way."

The eleven year olds traveled to the first floor as quietly as possible. Hermione and Ron let Harry lead without question until they reached an iron statue of Uric the Oddball.

"Now what?" Hermione asked, not sure why they stopped.

Harry didn't answer, too busy examining the statue. Uric, or at least this representation of him, fit the 'Oddball' moniker quite well. Atop the statue's head was an iron jellyfish worn as a hat. Harry climbed the statue's body and pulled the tentacle closest to Uric's left ear. It gave as a lever, and the stone wall behind it slide open to reveal a secret passage.

"Wicked," Ron exclaimed. "Fred and George said there are all sorts of these in the castle, never seen one though."

"Yeah," Harry was impressed by the hidden passage as well. "Let's see where it leads."

"Hopefully to Gryffindor Tower," Hermione said with a frown.

"Don't worry Hermione," Ron said, "we're in the clear now. We won't lose any points."

"We better not," Hermione said back. "That's the last thing I want."

"Why _are_ you out after curfew?" Harry asked.

"We came looking for you two," Hermione told him. "We wanted to stop you before anything bad happened. I guess we were too late."

"We?" Harry asked.

"Neville and I," Hermione said and then stopped climbing the stairs. "Oh, Neville! He's still out there!"

"Neville left the tower?" Ron said in surprise.

"He was worried about you as well," Hermione said. "We split up. He was sure you were in the Trophy Room, but I thought you would hide somewhere until midnight. I guess he was right."

"Nah," Ron admitted, "we hid, but in a spot where we could see Malfoy coming. Where did you think we were?"

"Well," Hermione looked like she was debating whether or not to say. "First I checked the library."

"The library?" Ron asked, bewildered. "Why would we hide in a library?"

"Why wouldn't you hide in a library?" Hermione argue back. She was offended now. "There are plenty of good places to hide, and there are all of those books."

"Like we'd do some Herbology homework while we waited for the duel?" Ron laughed.

"Like you might actually learn a few spells before going off to a wand fight," Hermione spit back.

"I know plenty enough to take on Malfoy," Ron said.

"What were you going to do," Hermione asked sarcastically, "Levitate him into surrendering?" Hermione pointed out they'd only learned one real spell in class.

"If I had to," Ron argued.

"You'd have to ask Harry to do it for you," Hermione quipped. Ron hadn't fared to well in Flitwick's class.

"Knock it off you two," Harry said. "There's the end of the passage."

A few steps in front of them, was a square shaped door. Judging by the size, they'd have to duck their heads a bit to fit through.

"That's not right," Hermione said, doing a quick mental calculation. "We haven't traveled nearly high enough."

"It's called _magic_," Ron said, still sore from their argument.

Ron pushed forward and opened the door. Once all three students were out from the secret passage, the opening resealed itself, blending into to the wood paneling of the unused classroom they stepped into. They exited the room and took a look around. This wasn't right.

"Well," Harry said with a huff, "this isn't the seventh floor. Either of you recognize where we are?"

"No," Hermione said with a huff. Harry knew she wasn't happy with him.

"Look," Harry started, "I'm sorry. I got some bad information, but we aren't caught yet. Let's keep moving and eventually we'll find a flight of stairs again."

They picked a direction and began walking. When then reached the end of the hall, both fear and guilt hit them all. Ahead of them, Filch was berating Draco, with Goyle standing dumbly beside him. Then, as Goyle shifted his large body on his heels of his feet, he revealed another boy behind him. The boy held his head hung low, but it was unmistakably a sandy haired Gryffindor.

"Filch got Nev," Ron stated.

Perhaps it was her superior hearing or maybe her keen sense of smell, but at that moment Mrs. Norris faced their direction and meowed. Filch stopped lecturing Draco to swing his lamp toward the dark hall. The trio pulled back further into the shadows.

"Show yourselves," Filch demanded.

"Can they see us?" Ron asked.

"Draco isn't cursing my name," Harry said, "so I doubt it. Let's go back the other way."

Filch began to push Draco, Goyle and Neville into a nearby supply closet, and signaled for Mrs. Norris to scout ahead.

"You three can stay in here," Filch told the boys, as he pulled out a ring of keys and locked them inside.

"Wait 'til my father hears about this," Draco's muffled cry could be heard echoing down the halls.

"Quickly," Harry added.

The three Gryffindors took off running, taking twists and turns at random down the hallways, knowing fully well they were unlikely to lose Mrs. Norris. Harry, being the fastest, was the first to stop when they reached a dead end. With no more corridors to turn down, he looked to his two friends for suggestions.

"Try the door Ron," Hermione said hurriedly.

Mrs. Norris stood behind of them with her back arched, meowing like a siren.

"It's locked," Ron panicked.

Hermione went for her wand, but Harry beat her to it.

"_Alohomora_," Harry said to cast the unlocking charm.

"Good one Harry," Ron said, reaching for the knob.

They rushed into the room, slamming the door shut before Mrs. Norris could follow. The room was completely dark. In their blindness, the sound of their hurried breath was amplified.

"Close your eyes," was all the warning Hermione gave the two boys before casting, "_Lumos._"

At first there were just spots in Harry's eyes and a low growl in his ear, Then Harry felt Hermione's trembling hand squeeze in a death grip on his wrist. That was when the barking started.

"Harry," Ron whined.

Harry's eyes focused as he came face to faces with three dogs. _No_, Harry corrected himself, _not three dogs, three heads on a single gigantic canine body_. Each chocolate brown head snapped, snarled and barked, spitting foam from its heavily fanged mouths. A fifth large paw, sprouting from a leg connected to the center of the monster's chest, dug at the stone floor.

"It's…it's chained," Hermione pointed out. She was still trembling, but her wits were pulling her back together. "It can't reach us from here."

On the other side of the door, Harry heard Filch's arrival.

"This again," Filch said in a gentle voice reserved only for his beloved cat. "Leave it alone Mrs. Norris. This one's not for you."

In a much rougher voice, Filch yelled through the door, "Quit your Barkin'! You can't have her you big ugly beast."

For a moment there was silence on Filch's end, and then Harry heard, "Back to the office with you Mrs. Norris, we've got three students who have a late date with a couple Heads of House."

It felt like an eternity waiting in the room with the blood thirsty monster barking at them, but none of them risked leaving until they were sure Filch was truly gone. It was Ron who couldn't take staring at the dog any longer. He pulled open the door and stuck his head out.

"It's clear," Ron said with relief. "Thank Merlin."

"What was that?" Harry asked.

"It was guarding something," Hermione said, finally calming down.

"How you figure?" Ron asked.

"There was a trapdoor," Hermione told him, "just below he's front paws. Didn't you see?"

"With a big three headed beast trying to eat us?" Ron fired back. "I was a bit too distracted to take in the sights."

"We're on the third floor," Harry surmised. "This is the Forbidden Corridor, and whatever through that trap door is why."

"We've got four flights to go," Ron said, thinking about their return trip to Gryffindor Tower. "Think we can make it without being spotted?"

"Maybe," Harry answered. "Let's just go the usual way back from here on. Agreed?"

Both Ron and Hermione nodded, and the trio ventured back to the main stairwell. Mindful to not get caught, they carefully checked around corners, taking their time to walk quietly to the tower.

When they reached the seventh floor, Ron was the first to peek around to the final hallway. He pulled back and waved for Harry to take a look. Walking briskly and angrily, Professor McGonagall was headed toward the Fat Lady painting guarding the Gryffindor entrance; Filch must have signaled her somehow. She gave the password and marched in the common room. The trio rushed the door and slipped in behind her before the door closed, leaving the talking painting unaware of their late arrival.

The common room was empty, which meant McGonagall had already headed for the dorms. Hermione gave the boys an apologetic half smile, knowing their Head of House was headed for the boys' room and not her own. A mouthed 'good luck' was all she gave before dashing off to bed.

Harry and Ron stepped lightly as they descended the spiraling stairs. They could hear talking but couldn't make out what was said until they reached the landing just before their own. McGonagall was speaking to Seamus and Dean.

"You're having a _slumber party_?" McGonagall asked.

"Yeah," Dean answered. "It's a Muggle thing, see? Uh, that's why we're still dressed. I thought it'd be a fun idea. The guys, we'd stay up all night telling stories, and really bond as a group."

"And Misters Potter and Weasley," McGonagall said with doubt laced in her voice, "just stepped out to use the loo…together."

"Yeah," Dean said, though he wasn't very believable.

"When you gotta go, you gotta go," Seamus added.

"I see," McGonagall said. "Then we will wait until their return. However, if they do not return, if you are lying to me, you will share their punishment. You will have no privileges. Lunches, dinners, afternoons will be served in the Transfiguration Room until term ends. Do I make myself clear?"

Harry assumed both boys gave their reply nonverbally. Looking to Ron, they held a silent conversation deciding what they should do. On one hand, they could confess the truth and potentially save Neville from a harsher punishment, while forcing Dean and Seamus to share their own grim fate. On the other, they could go along with the lie and only Neville would be disciplined for stepping out of bounds. They knew what they had to do, though Harry wasn't happy about it.

"Sweet Morgana on a broomstick!" Ron exclaimed as they entered the room.

_Way to not over sell it Ron_, Harry sarcastically thought.

"What's she doing here?" Ron kept going. "Is it morning already or something?'

"How long were we in the loo?" Ron added, turning to Harry.

_Please don't laugh_, Harry mentally begged of himself. _Oh no, don't look at Seamus; he's going to crack. _The Irish boy was coughing into his hands to hide his surprised amusement.

"Well," McGonagall started and then waited a beat. Harry wasn't sure if it was his own guilt ridden imagination or not, but there was a hint of disappointment, "it appears there was only one Gryffindor on the loose tonight."

The professor walked over to Neville's bed. There was a bulge in the sheet as if Neville were asleep under them. Pulling them back revealed a pile of folded up robes.

"Neville flew the coop?" Dean asked. His shocked look to Harry confirmed he genuinely didn't know Neville was gone.

"You did not know?" McGonagall asked the boy. "Did you not try to include him in your slumber party?"

"Figured he went to bed still sore at…" Dean shut his mouth, but it was too late. McGonagall caught an omission.

"Sore at what, Mr. Thomas?" McGonagall asked him.

"At me, professor," Harry said. "I think I know why he left too."

Professor McGonagall faced Harry. From behind her, he could see Seamus wide eyed and shaking his head for Harry not to confess.

"He left to stop me from dueling Draco," Harry truthfully answered.

From her position, McGonagall missed the sight of Dean slapping his own forehead.

"You arranged a duel with Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall asked him. Her stern gaze was back.

"No ma'am," Harry answered.

"I am tired, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said with exasperation, "and I am upset. Please explain fully."

"Draco challenged me to a duel a couple days ago," Harry started. Once again, he found himself replying with the truth, though he knew it would not last. "He left before I could accept or refuse him. Then word got out to everyone about it. I figured: why not just let him think it was going to happen. If he wanted to go around breaking rules, I'd just let him get caught. Maybe he'd learn a lesson.'

"So, for the last couple days, I've been making sure to say as little as possible. If it got out I wasn't going to show up tonight, Malfoy would just say I was scared to face him and he'd go on acting like he has been. I spent all day down by Hagrid's hut playing with animals just so I didn't run into people and have to confess I wasn't going to the duel.'

_Where is this coming from?_ Harry wondered. _Maybe I should have been in Slytherin._

"So, you had no intention of dueling Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall asked him to clarify.

"No ma'am," Harry answered. "But Neville didn't know that; none of the guys did until tonight. He made it known he was against the idea of the duel from the start, and he must have been pretty mad with me, thinking I'd go through with it. That's Neville though, good guy through and through." _And here it goes, _"The great guy he is, he must have taken upon himself to protect the house from a rule breaker sneaking off and causing trouble. A true Gryffindor, that one. Don't you think ma'am?"

"Yes," McGonagall answered, though still sporting a frown, "perhaps, Mr. Potter."

* * *

><p><strong>The Great Hall, 8 September 1991<strong>

Neville did not return that night, nor did Harry see him at breakfast Sunday morning. By noon, word had gotten out about first years breaking curfew. This was also when the majority of students noticed the loss in house points suffered by Gryffindor and Slytherin. 50 points were stripped from the Gryffindor total, and doubly that for Slytherin House.

The version of events told to McGonagall had spread like wildfire. Seamus must have decided to stick with it when he retold the tale to the gossiping Lavender Brown, one of the first year Gryffindor girls. Fortunately no one in Gryffindor seemed to blame Harry for the loss, though he did hear some murmuring about Neville. Even Percy approved of Harry's apparent refusal to break school rules. A few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws actually congratulated Harry for pulling one over on Slytherin. It seemed Gryffindor wasn't the only house sick of the Slytherin bias.

By dinner, when Harry still hadn't seen sign of Neville, he began to worry. Draco and Goyle made an appearance, where was Longbottom? The growing female rumor mill finally paid off when Lavender received word that Parvati Patil heard from Sophie Roper, who heard it from Susan Bones, that Hannah Abbot caught sight of him in one of the greenhouses. Knowing that Neville wasn't suffering the punishment McGonagall threaten Dean and Seamus with, Harry relaxed, though it was far from over. Neville would be upset and Harry owed him an apology and maybe more. That would have to come later, after Harry had a chat with Sirius Black.

* * *

><p><strong>Forbidden Forest, 8 September 1991<strong>

"You don't say?" Sirius feigned shock. "Passage on the first floor led to the _third_? Oh that's right, the passage to the seventh is found on the fourth. Well, that's much easier to get to from the trophy room. There's that painting right next to it, you must have seen it, the one of Brutus Scrimgeour? Right behind that, there's a staircase, takes you out of a large mirror that puts you on the fourth, and not but one room over has the stairs to the seventh. Funny how things like that slip one's mind as they get older. So, see anything interesting?"

"Not really," Harry said, deciding to play Sirius's game.

"Really?" this time Sirius's surprise was genuine. "I really thought you'd find something worthy of an adventure."

"You mean like a trap door," Harry said, "guarded by a three headed dog the size of Hagrid?" Harry's voice rose, and then Harry retold the night as he remembered it.

"A Cerberus?" Sirius asked. "You found a Cerberus? Now that is interesting. They make great guardians, or at least that's what they say. Didn't happen to answer to the name _Fang_, did it?"

_Fang?_ Where had he heard that name before?

"Hagrid's Fang," Harry put it together out loud. "You think Hagrid's dog, the one he called a coward, is a ginormous three headed killer beast. That can't be right."

"Hagrid said he loved that dog," Sirius said. "Well, where is it if he loves it so much? And I haven't exactly been chasing my tail all day," Sirius added. "I've had some rough work dealing with all this livestock. You ever try to herd a Hippogriff? They're as stubborn as a mule and as flighty as a bird. Hagrid and I needed all the help we could get. If he had Fang around, I guarantee he would have used him. No, we're left with two options: he either lent him out, or Fang passed away sometime between picking you up from the Dursleys and dropping me off here.'

"So, that begs the real question," Sirius said. "What's under that trap door?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: We're into the meat of the story now. Harry's causing trouble and making mistakes. Sirius is caught up in a mystery. Draco has a real reason to resent Harry. His daddy issues hopefully give him a bit of depth for all of that anger. Draco is obviously just a daddy's boy looking for love. I really like this part of the story. This chapter was fun and I'm even more excited about the new stuff I'm doing to the next chapter.

Oh, I've combined the two characters of Fang and Fluffy into one lovable ball of murderous fur. I thought it was pretty sad we never heard from Fluffy again after PS. So, I'm combining him with another dog that got too little attention as well. He's everything great about Fang with triple the size, heads, tails, and an extra front leg for the hell of it.

Originally Fang and Fluffy were going to be separate characters. Back then, I imagined Fluffy as a giant three headed, three tailed wiener dog with twelve stubby legs.

**Next Chapter:** Harry meets a pinked haired witch, and flying lessons go upside-down.


	9. Chapter Nine: Flight of the Gryffindor

**Chapter 9: Chapter Nine: Flight of the Gryffindor **

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the franchise of Harry Potter. The world and characters used in this story belongs to J.K Rowland. Material has been altered to suit the needs of this fanfiction.

**Warning:** This story is rated M for strong language and graphic violence. Don't worry folks, it'll get there.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Nine:<strong>

**Flight of the Gryffindor**

**...**

**Defense Against the Dart Arts Classroom, 19 September 1991**

It had been over a week, two come tomorrow, since Harry's late night excursion to the Forbidden Corridor and the discovery of Fang the Cerberus. The trio of first years, who ventured to the off limits area, remained quiet about their discovery. Hermione reminded both Harry and Ron it was one thing for their fabricated story, involving their trap for Draco Malfoy, to spread through gossip. The professors had already heard it and ruled judgment. But if rumors got out about their discovery of the three headed dog, not only would their deception be revealed, but McGonagall would know they broke yet another rule by traveling to the out of bounds section of castle on the third floor.

Ron protested at first. At the very least, he wanted to tell Fred and George. He looked up to his brothers and wished badly for some form of recognition from them. Fortunately the twins had seen Harry and Ron sneak out that night. Their private congratulations to the younger boy, over getting one past McGonagall and busting a couple Slytherins as he did, was enough to satisfy him for the present. With that, the fear of getting in trouble kept him from blabbing.

Harry was perfectly fine with staying silent about the whole matter. Sirius was worrying him with his guesses at what could lay beneath the belly of the beast. Additionally, Harry was more concerned with making things right with Neville before the situation got any worse. The angry boy refused to say a word to Harry, going as far as to ignore him as badly as Snape still did in Potions. It made things quite awkward, especially as the two shared a dorm room.

Neville had only suffered the rather large point deduction. McGonagall had chosen to forgo the far more severe punishment Seamus referred to as, 'perpetual detention'. But in some ways, the removal of points was far worse for Neville. He was shunned by the upperclassmen. A few Gryffindors went so far as to pick on the boy like a pack of Slytherins, and most blamed him for their House falling to last place in the race for the Hogwarts Cup. Only the first year boys and Hermione continued to treat him with any respect; which was why it was no surprise the boy chose to spend most of his free time in the greenhouses alone.

Harry watched Neville as he took notes from Quirrell's tale of Romania and the creatures he encountered there. As if feeling Harry's eyes on him, Neville looked his way. They made the briefest of eye contact before Neville turned back to his paper, visibly upset. Harry sighed.

When class ended, Harry didn't pay attention to the dismissal. He was still focused on how to repair his friendship with Neville, even after the rest of the class had left.

"D-did you need something Potter?" Quirrell asked, seeing that Harry remained behind.

"What?" Harry said, no longer lost in his own thoughts. "Oh…no, sorry professor. I was just thinking."

"Something troubling you Mr. P-Potter?" Quirrell stammered. He moved from around his desk and approach Harry.

"It's nothing really," Harry began. "It's just Neville is still mad about the whole thing with the duel."

"Ah," said Quirrell, "I heard about that. Rather smart plan of yours Mr. Potter. Truly it was the best course of action. I've noticed the y-young Malfoy in class; I can only imagine how he misbehaves when no one is watching. I'm sure, with time, Mr. Longbottom will come around."

"I hope so professor," Harry said. "I'm clueless when it comes to all this friendship stuff. Now that I finally have some, I'm afraid I'm going to mess everything up."

"If I may be so b-bold," Quirrell stuttered, "it sounds like you didn't have many friends before Hogwarts."

"More like none," Harry said, surprised he found himself opening up to the usually skittish professor. "If I ever tried back home, my cousin was quick to put a stop to it."

"Your cousin at home," Quirrell prodded, "did he live with you; was he older perhaps? I had a brother, couple years ahead of me in s-school. Being older, he knew more magic, and gave me quite a bit of t-trouble growing up."

"Nah," Harry said, "he's just bigger."

"And did you guardians not doing anything to stop it?" Quirrell asked about his family life. "Surely your cousin was reprimanded for his action."

"Ha," Harry scoffed. "He could get away with anything, a bit like Draco in that way. He's my cousin too you know."

"Yes, you don't have much luck when it comes to those," Quirrell admitted.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Well, at least the ones I've already met."

"Do you have many relatives?" Quirrell asked. "I know it's n-not m-my place to pry, but no one talks about that much, though you are the c-center of many conversations."

"Um," Harry answered, "Not that I know of. I have another cousin here, I mean she attends Hogwarts, but I haven't met her. Don't really know anything about her either." Harry then had a thought, "You wouldn't know her, would you? You must teach her: Tonks, Nymphadora Tonks?"

"Sixth year Hufflepuff," Quirrell replied. "Yes, she is a hard one to miss; I know her well. She's one of m-my top students when it c-comes to the practical work."

Harry was thrilled. For weeks now, he had thought about what his cousin could be like, but had been too afraid to ask anyone for help. Quirrell was right when he said Harry was unlucky with cousins. His fear of having another bad one had kept him from seeking her out.

"She has my class Mondays and Wednesdays after lunch," Quirrell said. "I think coming by the beginning of next week would provide you a suitable opportunity to meet with her. I would be happy to pr-pro-vide you with a reasonable excuse to be visiting my room. You'll know her by her hair; can't miss her, really."

"Thanks professor," Harry said honestly.

"My pleasure, Potter," Quirrell said without any stutter at all.

* * *

><p><strong>The Grand Staircase, 23 September 1991<strong>

Harry nervously bounced on his feet below the Hogwarts Stairways. The Slytherin and Hufflepuff sixth years' Defense Against the Dark Arts class would be over soon, and his opportunity to meet his cousin, Nymphadora Tonks, would present itself. Of course, that would require releasing his death grip on the railing, and continuing up one flight where the Defense class was located.

"Harry," Hermione said with a nudge, "you've been talking about this all weekend. If you don't go now, you'll have to wait two more days to try again."

"Maybe I should wait until Wednesday," Harry considered. Taking the opportunity to give himself an out, he added, "First day of flying lessons starts tomorrow. Probably shouldn't meet her while I've got something else on my mind."

Hermione's glare let him know that his excuse sounded as stupid aloud as it did in his head. She would not let him miss his chance. She knew how important this was to him.

"Right," Harry said while squaring his shoulders, "I'm going… Here I go."

Still, he did not budge. It took Hermione giving him a good push, before he finally took to the stairs. He tripped through the first couple steps before righting himself. He only glanced back to Hermione once to see her reassuring smile of encouragement.

Harry approached the hall containing Professor Quirrell's classroom, and stood awkwardly waiting for the class to let out. From the other side of the hall, Harry could hear someone snoring loudly in their History of Magic class. It was oddly comforting to know his wasn't the only group of students to think the subject boring.

Facing the Defense door, it was open a crack and Harry decided to take a glance inside. He could not see much, mostly the backs of the sixth years' heads. Quirrell was bumbling along describing the countermeasures when faced with a Quinotaur if one ever found themselves near the shores of Crete. Part bull, part sea serpent: the creature was fascinating. Harry was so caught up in the lesson, ear pressed to the door, he was nearly trampled when the class was released. As the students bottlenecked at the opening, a poor sixth year with pink hair wasn't so lucky when her bag caught and sent her spinning. She took another with her on her fall, a rather unpleasant looking Slytherin boy.

"You damned Duffer," The other sixth year complained to the girl with brightly colored hair, "can't you take two steps without causing a seen?"

'Duffer', Harry had heard the expression before. It was a common insult and nickname for the House of Helga Hufflepuff. The Weasley twins used it more than once when referring to the house in jest.

"Sorry," the Hufflepuff girl said distractedly. She was attempting to pick up her scattered papers.

"_Sorry_," the boy mocked in a high pitch voice. Already standing back up, the boy loomed over her. "Sorry you're a half-blood disgrace of a Hufflepuff? This is what you get when a pureblood goes blood-traitor: a worthless mutt."

At that, the girl finally looked up. Her mouth grimaced and her face turned red.

_She looks right pissed_, Harry thought. It was understandable given the situation.

Then something unexpected happened. Her hair, once a short cropped cut of pink, stood up and turned a fiery shade to match her face. That hair, Harry had never seen anything like it, the way it just changed on its own without a spell.

_Nymphadora Tonks? _Harry guessed. Quirrell had said she would be recognized by her hair.

"What you say about me mum?" she asked the other boy, daring him to say it again.

She was on her feet again, loose papers and a book under her arm, with her nose nearly touching the sixth year boy's. Instead of answering her, the boy just knocked the book from her hand, sending the papers flying again. When she went to pick the book back up, with her back turn from him, the boy drew his wand on her.

Harry wasn't sure what possessed him to do it, but he drew his own wand and shoved it the boy's lower back.

"Oi!" the boy exclaimed. "What…"

That was enough to bring the girl's attention to the drawn wand in the sixth year's hand. She drew her own and disarmed him with a shout of "_Expelliarmus_."

"Ah," the boy exclaimed, looking back at Harry, "you got to be kidding me, a Hufflepuff and _bloody_ first year?"

"How you like that, Flint?" she said with a smirk. "Now how about we call it a day before a professor gets involved?"

"Like I care about losing House Points," Flint challenged back. "I'll just win them back when we take the Quidditch Cup this year."

"Ha," she laughed, "Slytherin might have the edge on the point system, but Snape can't cheat his way to the Quidditch Cup. We've got a new Seeker this year; he'll be flying circles 'round Higgs. Of course, that only matters if you manage to beat Gryffindor in a couple weekends, which is unlikely."

"What, that fourth year Diggory?" Flint scoffed. "He doesn't stand a chance, and the Gyrffs would have to borrow him from your House to even compete. I guess you didn't hear, their new Seeker took a mean one to the head Sunday's practice. A shame really, no way will he be cleared to fly by game day. Slytherin's got this one before the season even starts."

"Keep dreaming, Flint," she told him. Throwing his wand back to him, she added, "Now get out of her before I have to remind you who the better dueler is."

Flint shoved past her, but turned around to say, "Hey firstie, I would watch your back from her on if I were you." With that, he left the hall.

"Nice job with the wand," the girl said to Harry, her hair returning to its former pink hue, "but I really would watch out. Flint's a hothead, and he's not above cursing a first year to get even."

"Uh," Harry wasn't sure what to say to this girl who could potentially be his family, "thanks… here, let me help."

Harry bent down and began collect her fallen pages. Handing over what he picked up, he continued to just stare at her.

Sensing his gaze, she asked, "There something on my face? I feel like you're about to bore a hole through my forehead with that look."

"What?" Harry answered back, feeling stupid for not just coming out with it. "It's just, I came here looking for you…or I think it's you."

"I'm pretty sure I'm me," she said back with cheek, "I was me the last time I checked, anyway. I could be someone else, but you'd think I'd know if I was."

"I meant," Harry tried to explain himself, "I mean, are you…uh, you wouldn't happen to be related to the Black's, would you?"

For a moment, the girl didn't move. Then her hair flashed raven, much like Harry's own, for the briefest instant. Her posture became ridged. Taking a hard look at Harry, her eyebrows shot upward as a realization hit her.

"So you're him," she said sadly. "I wondered if you might come looking for me." Then her expression changed to reserved angry, "Well, for your information, no, I'm not a Black. My mum isn't one either; it's official and everything. So, you're looking to settle some grudge, look somewhere else."

"_Grudge_," Harry repeated. "No, I was just…so you aren't her? I guess I got the wrong girl. Professor Quirrell said she's was in your class; I thought it was you… my cousin, I mean."

"Your cousin?" she said in confusion.

"Yeah," Harry said with a slight smile, "Nymphadora Tonks."

"Ugh, don't call me that," the witch cringed, "I hate that name. Just be glad I didn't curse you for it, and from now on I'm just 'Tonks', alright?"

"So, you are her?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Yeah, I'm your cousin," Tonks smiled back at the boy. "I'm surprised you wanted to meet me. Well, I thought you might want to meet me because of what the Blacks did in the war, but…"

"I've been hoping to find you since term began," Harry replied. "My only other family here is Draco Malfoy, and we don't get along."

"Don't remind me," Tonks told Harry, "not that the little snot-nose would ever admit to being related to me. You heard Flint; I'm a disgrace to the Black name. Seeing as what they're known for, can't say I'm too disappointed about the idea."

_She's talking about Sirius_, Harry realized. Sirius Black's alleged betray of Harry's parents, added to the war crimes of his cousin Bellatrix Lestrange, linked the Black name with that of dark wizards.

"So cousin," Tonks said with a wink, "now that you found me, what do you plan to do with me?"

"Hadn't thought that far," Harry honestly replied. "What do you do with family you want to get to know?" Hesitantly, Harry added, "that is, if you want to get to know me."

"Sure, Harry," Tonks answered. "What do you say we make an afternoon of it? I've got a killer Potions essay Thursday. So how about after that; got anything major coming up?"

"Just a paper on the Falling Spell for Charms on Friday," Harry said. "I've got a bit left for the theory portion and I'll be done."

"Great," Tonks said, "save it for Thursday; bet I can help."

"Thanks," Harry said gratefully.

"What are cousins for?" Tonks said. "So, Thursday after classes, I'll meet you by the Great Hall, alright?"

Harry replied in the affirmative and watched as his cousin took off for the Hufflepuff common room.

"Not the introduction you were expecting, I'd imagine," Professor Quirrell said, making his presence known. "It seems it all worked out rather well though."

Quirrell was standing in the doorway, his hands playing with one end of his trademark scarf. He motion for Harry to follow him back into the room, and then moved to the front of the class. Harry approached him as the Professor began clearing a long table where his podium usually was, putting objects into a box. The table hadn't been there last Harry had class; he assumed Quirrell conjured it for the lesson. Upon it there were a variety of tools, potion bottles, and a wreath of garlic. Catching Harry looking at the wreath, Quirrell explained.

"For v-vampires," Quirrell said. "They can't stand the stuff. I spent a month in Romania reeking of the garlic, but it was worth it. You can never be too c-careful when in vampire territory."

Harry nodded along. Sirius said he knew a couple vampires. He also said they were not too bad if they weren't hungry. Still Harry rubbed his neck, thinking about the idea of vampires feeding.

"So, you saw Tonks and me?" Harry changed the subject.

"Also the incident with Mr. Flint," Quirrell admitted. "Marcus had a rough class today. He wasn't anywhere near as prepared for the lesson as I expect of my sixth years. I may have embarrassed him a bit when I called on him. Honestly, I wasn't surprised to see Mr. Flint finally l-loose it. Do not worry; I wouldn't have let the boy curse her."

"But you didn't say anything," Harry commented, surprised Quirrell didn't remove any points from all three of them. "We all broke the rules."

"Self-defense in the case of Ms. Tonks and yourself," Quirrell pointed out. "In any case, neither Ms. Tonks nor Mr. Flint is one to let a matter settle due to a simple points deduction, and Ms. Tonks is more than capable of handling Mr. Flint. I'm afraid she's had to deal with the boy more than once this term," Quirrell explained further. "He's been short tempered all year; I suspect something to do with his home life. It usually is with these sorts of things.'

"Harry, would you mind grabbing that axe for me?"

Quirrell was hovering a box of potion bottles with his wand, and holding several bladed weapons under his left arm.

Harry lifted the double bladed weapon and nearly dropped the axe due to the weight of it. Hugging it to his chest, Harry followed Quirrell into the professor's office connected to the classroom. Quirrell set down his load next to a large basket. It was the same woven basket Harry had first seen him with at the Leaky Cauldron before school began. He then divested Harry of the axe.

"R-rather unwieldy I know," Quirrell said, taking short swings to show how difficult the weapon was to maneuver, "but one of the few sure ways to defeat a vampire is beheading, you see."

"Vampires, Sir?" Harry asked, remember the bit of lesson he had overheard. "I thought you were talking about Quintotaurs."

"Ah," Quirrell laughed in a self-deprecating manor, "I was, of course you're right. I visited their native home earlier in the summer and I suppose the trip is still on my mind. I tend to get a bit sidetracked these days. I'll have to remember that when it comes to their midterm. But the lesson was originally over vampires. This axe is a rather effective tool for killing them. A w-wizard has other means to kill the creature of course. I've found a simple _Ferula_ can be all you need, but then, only if you're f-fast enough to use it. Truly, the best defense against a v-vampire is to be as far from one as p-possible."

"Ferula?" Harry asked.

"Creates a wooden splint," Quirrell said. "A wooden stake to a vampire's h-heart will destroy the beast. The splint works as a stake well enough to get the job done. Here, do like this," Quirrell made a jabbing motion with his wand, "and then say _Ferula_."

"_Ferula_," Harry mimicked the incantation and wand movement. A foot long stick appeared and then fell to the floor.

"Excellent," Quirrell exclaimed, "five points to Gryffindor for mastering a third year spell. Now, if you'd h-hold on for one moment, I believe I have a letter."

Quirrell was looking past Harry, toward an open window. An owl flew in and landed on his desk. It pecked Quirrell's hand when the professor went for the letter attached to the bird's leg.

While Quirrell read the letter, Harry took a closer look at the owl. Sharp yellow eyes and feather white as snow, she was beautiful; much keener than the common barn owls usually seen bringing mail. Harry reached out to stroke her feathers.

"C-careful," Quirrell gave a tense warning, but deflated as Harry brushed the owl's coat. "Never mind, it appears she likes you. She always b-bites _me_ when I get too near."

Harry continued to pet the bird, who curled her head to get closer.

"I picked her up in Diagon," Quirrell continued to talk of the owl, "same day we met, if I remember correctly. I named her Hedwig."

"She's wonderful," Harry said.

"She's strong-willed," Quirrell commented. "I was af-fraid she wouldn't take my posts at first." Waving the letter in his hand, he added, "Fortunately she does. It seems a package I've requested is finally ready. I h-hate to do this to you, but I must reply immediately."

Harry recognized the dismissal.

"Thank you Professor," Harry said before turning to leave.

With another glance to the owl, Harry exited the professor's office.

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts Grounds, 24 September 1991<strong>

The Gryffindor and Slytherin first years were buzzing with excitement as they waited for their flight instructor, Madam Rolanda Hooch, to arrive. Neville, the most apprehensive about flying among the Gryffindor boys, stared hard at a misty red ball clutched in his sweaty hands.

"Oi there Longbottom," Draco said to the boy, "What've you got there?"

Draco motioned Crabbe, and the chubby boy snatched the ball away from Neville, and tossed it to Draco. Luckily, Harry was quick to interfere, reaching out and snagging the ball just before Draco could get his mitts on it.

"Don't think so Draco," Harry said. "Here you go Neville."

Neville hesitantly took the ball back. Not sure what to feel about Harry coming to his recue, he chose to remain silent, walking away from Harry to stand next to Sophie Roper, the quietest of Hermione's roommates.

Draco made an annoyed huff, then turned away in attempt to appear blasé about the ordeal, but Harry could tell the boy was secretly seething. Draco surrounded himself in his circle of friends and ignored the Gryffindors until Madam Hooch arrived.

Harry moved farther from Draco, giving Neville some space as well; most of the Gryffindors followed, Hermione and Ron being the nearest to him. Hermione knew Harry still felt guilty about Neville's predicament with the rest of Gryffindor, and patted Harry on the arm reassuringly.

"Seamus tried explaining to Nev again," Ron told Harry. "Told him it was your wit what saved him from McGonagall's wrath. I tried as well, but seeing as I went with… I think he's a bit pissed with me as well."

"Language Ronald," Hermione scolded. Turning to his other friend she said, "I think he understands, Harry. You'll see."

When Madam Hooch joined the class on the field, she came with a barrel of banged up brooms bouncing behind her. She laid out each broom and had the students split into two rows, each student standing next to a broom. Once she finished her lecture on safety, she finally began the basics for broom travel, first teaching them how to call their broom to their hand.

With shouts of "Up," the first years attempted to call the brooms. The results were a mixture of success. Draco proudly held his broom as the first of the Slytherins to do so, only to frown when he saw Ron and Harry had performed the same feat.

Soon, Madam Hooch had the first years hovering above the earth. A few students, including Hermione and Neville, remained only a meter from the ground, making slow, steady circles, too afraid to venture higher. Harry was far above the field, attempting to push his worn out school broom as fast as its bent straw end would allow. It took a warning from Madam Hooch about not going so high, before Harry remembered he wasn't supposed to know anything of broom travel.

"Look who it is," a voice from below said in a mocking tone, "the Boy Who Lived, himself."

Descending, Harry saw that it was Flint, the Slytherin boy who pulled a wand on Tonks the day before. He was with a group of older Slytherins, all dressed in silver and green Quidditch attire.

"That's enough, Mr. Flint," Madam Hooch told him. "What are you boys doing dressed for practice, the pitch is currently reserved for Gryffindor; didn't Professor Snape tell you of the change?"

"Gryffindor booked it to train a new Seeker," Flint said. "They didn't find one, so the pitch should be ours again. Professor Snape's tell them to give it up, now."

"Is he?" Madam Hooch said. "He should know all schedule changes must go through me first. You lot stay here. Mr. Flint, you and the other lads watch after the first years; this won't take long." She turned to her flying class and added, "Feet on the ground until I get back."

The Gryffindors watched the fly instructor leave the field, heading for the nearby Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch, hoping she would change her mind about leaving them under the care of Slytherins. She did not.

"Well, well," Flint said, circling Harry. His teammates spread out through the first years. "What should I do with you? You drew a wand on me yesterday. Think that entitles me to some retribution."

"Harry?" Hermione whispered.

"He was going to curse Tonks," Harry said. "What else was I supposed to do?"

"Figures," Draco entered into the conversation, "he's always showing off. You saw him on the broom; thinks his a pro." Directed to Harry, he added, "Bet you think you're the next Eunice Murray; don't you, Potter?"

Draco was smirking; watching Flint out the corner of his eye. Harry knew what Draco was doing; he was trying to get Flint riled up. He had learnt his lesson from the night of their supposed duel, now he was getting someone else to fight his battles for him. Harry didn't know what to do about it. The last thing he wanted was to face seven older students.

"More like Galvin Gudgeon," Flint said to the amusement of his team. "Well, go on Potter, give us a show."

_Eunice Murray, Galvin Gudgeon?_ Harry did not get the references, but based on Ron's reaction, the boy's ears turning pink in anger, it was not a compliment.

"Mount your broom, Potter," Flint demanded. "You're going to need it."

Flint drew his wand a sent sparks at Harry's feet, and Harry jumped back out of the way. The Slytherins laughed at him, even as one of the large boys had to hold Seamus back when he tried to take a swing at Flint. Flint raised his wand again, this time level with Harry's chest. This was the first opportunity Flint had to get revenge on Harry; It appeared he wasn't going to waste it.

"Come on, Potter," Flint taunted. The incantation of another curse was on the tip of his tongue.

"D-don't," Neville Longbottom cried out. His wand was drawn, though it was clear he would not have the courage to actually use it.

"_Petrificus Totalus_," Flint casted at Neville.

Neville's body went ridged. While the rest of his body was unable to move, his eyes frantically looked for help. Ron yelled for Flint to release Neville, but Slytherins were in between the Gryffindor boys and Neville, blocking any of the younger boys from giving assistance. Flint's focus was on Neville now that he had him under his spell, and it seemed he planned to follow up his first curse with another.

Memories flooded Harry's mind of countless encounters with Dudley and the other boys ganging up and taking their turns tormenting him. Harry remembered how their bullying started small and continued to escalate, encouraged by each other's actions. Looking around him, he saw a couple of the other Quidditch players draw their wands like Flint had. Even the first year Slytherins stood a little straighter, a little more confident. It would be the same kind of escalation with these boys.

Before Sirius Black, Harry was outnumbered and powerless to stop Dudley and his gang. It was an unending nightmare, but it was only he who suffered, at least until Dudley faced Black Dog. With Sirius defending him, Harry was left alone for the most part. When Dudley turned his aggression on the other smaller children in the neighborhood, it was the notorious Black Dog of Little Whinging who put a stop to that as well. However Black Dog wasn't coming to the rescue this time and with Neville under wand point, it was clear Harry would not be the only one suffering either. The Slytherins were bigger. They were stronger. They're knowledge of magic was far superior to his. He couldn't fight them back, not wand to wand.

"Fine," Harry firmly said. His voice did not betray the fear secretly building within him.

That got Flint looking his way again. Harry raised his fist over the school broom at his feet. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath to steady his nerves, resigning himself to act. Harry opened his hand and willed the handle end of the broom into his grasp without a verbal command.

This was not his broom. The weight was off and the shaft coarser, but overwhelming those sensations was the familiarity of the action, and with that Harry knew he could fly. A year's worth of training coursed through his body as reflex and muscle memory. Placing one foot on the broom where the bristles met the shaft, Harry rose off the ground and spun, straddling the broom properly once the handle was pointed in Flint's direction.

"I'm on my broom," Harry said. "Now back off Neville."

"There's that Gryffindor courage," Flint mocked over the laughter of the other Slytherins. He mounted his broom as well.

"Take a seat," Flint said to Neville.

Flint gave Neville a good shove, and Neville's frozen body toppled over like a board. There was a hard thud when he made contact with the ground; it was clearly painful. Judging by Flint's expression, he knew it would be. Hermione rushed to Neville, checking to see if he was alright. There were tears in his eyes. Harry knew those tears, the fear and the humiliation. Watching someone else experience it too, it set him off.

Before Flint could react, Harry rocketed forward on his broom and plowed like a Bludger straight into Flint, his broom handle making contact with the Slytherin's chest. The force of the collision sent both boys tumbling off their brooms and onto the grass. The other Quidditch players stood by in shock.

"Well don't just stand there," Draco yelled at the older students, "get him."

The large third year still holding onto Seamus released the boy and charged at Harry. However, Seamus was still in a fighting mood, and together with Ron and Dean, managed to grab hold of his robes and trip him up from behind. The other players mounted their brooms to chase Harry.

Harry ducked the first flying Slytherin, but was clipped by the next and sent rolling.

"You're broom, Harry!" Hermione yelled over the other screaming Gryffindors and the cheering Slytherin first years.

Harry spotted the school broom and made a run for it, leaping to the air before it was even summoned to his hand. Once seated, he immediately flipped upside-down on it, and avoided another Slytherin, who flew over the top of him. Righting himself, he pulled left and away from the team.

His broom was too slow though. It could not compete with the superior sports models the Slytherins used. He was soon overcome by two players from either side of him. Unable to out run them, Harry pushed down with his feet and lifted the handle hard, putting his broom nearly perpendicular with the ground. The move caused his broom to come to a forward stop, as it gentle floated him upwards. The two boys banged into each other, causing them to wobble on their brooms before regaining control. Harry spun, still perpendicular to the ground, and then leveled out several meters over the ground. That's when the rocks came.

Flint, obviously still in pain, judging by the way he held one hand to his chest, began banishing stones at the raven haired first year. Harry dove and twisted with practiced reflexes. This was much like his times with Sirius before the school year began. Of course, rocks hurt a lot more than tennis balls and weak spell fire, and this abused broom was far from the one he was accustom to. Luckily for Harry, Flint was a much worse aim than Sirius either due to skill or angry: Harry didn't know which.

Hermione's screams for Flint to 'stop' became too much for the Slytherin to take, and he turned his wand and banished a walnut sized stone her way. Harry dove, and pushed the broom as fast as he could, catching the stone before it connected with Hermione's head. It hurt like hell; his hand stung from the impact, and Harry was sure it was bleeding within his clinched fist, but his hatred for Flint kept him quiet.

Harry held Hermione's gaze as the fighting paused. Emotions passed between the two as they held a brief conversation with their eyes. This was escalating to a level of danger they had only felt when facing Fang weeks before. Flint wasn't thinking clearly, and they didn't know how to stop him. Hermione's eyes widened as she looked over Harry's shoulder. Harry turned to see Flint pointing his wand again, a glow of a newly forming spell pouring from the tip.

"Stop this!" McGonagall's shout rang out as she hurried to the gathered students. "Stop this at once. Marcus Flint put your wand down this instant. Attacking first years, what were you thinking?"

McGonagall was marching to them swiftly. Professor Snape and Madam Hooch followed with the Gryffindor team behind them.

"They started it," Draco said, pointing at Harry and Hermione.

"He cursed Neville," Hermione cried. The boy was still paralyzed below her. The other Gryffindors were quick to confirm Hermione's story. The Slytherin instinct for self-preservation kept the others from backing Draco's lie.

"Mr. Flint," McGonagall rounded on him, "If it were up to me, you would be suspended from Quidditch completely, if not up for expulsion."

"However," Snape smoothly interjected, "as your Head of House, your punishment falls to my domain. To start, I believe you shall be serving detention in the dungeons tonight. We will discuss further punishment at that time."

From McGonagall's tightly drawn mouth, Harry could tell she thought Snape's punishment would not be nearly fitting enough.

"As for the actions of Mr. Potter," Snape continued, Harry was shocked. This was the first he had ever heard the Potions professor refer to him at all, "I hardly believe he is a mere innocent. I think…"

"I think he's a Gryffindor," McGonagall interrupted, "and that leaves him in _my_ domain."

_Ha, take that you greasy git,_ Harry had never been more proud to have McGonagall as his Head of House.

"Very well," Snape reluctantly deferred to McGonagall's authority regarding Harry. "As for our discussion prior, I stand by the decision to allow Slytherin their practice. Surely, Madam Hooch cannot argue the fairness."

"I hate to admit it," Hooch said. It was clear she was not happy about her ruling. "The switch was made so Gryffindor could train their new Seeker. Since Wood has been unable to acquire one, there is no reason for the change." She then turned to the Gryffindor team. "Unless you've found one, Wood?" she asked hopefully.

A burly boy, surrounded by three Gryffindor girls and Fred and George Weasley, stepped forward. This was obviously 'Wood'. He bit his lip thinking, and then looked to McGonagall. He then motioned to Harry with his head, and waited a response from her. McGonagall considered and then gave the briefest of smiles. Wood gave a broad grin.

"Him," Wood said, pointing at Harry.

"Me?" Harry asked.

"Potter?" Snape and Draco said at the same time.

"He's a first year," Draco said, opposed to the idea. "We're not even allowed a broom."

"They are in a dire need," Madam Hooch considered, "I'll allow it, in this rather unusual circumstance. It is clear he's a nature on a broom, after all."

'Thank you, Rolanda," McGonagall said. "If Harry would follow the team back to the pitch, I believe you still have flying lessons to administer."

Snape stormed off to the castle with the Slytherin team in tow, and McGonagall walked with the Gryffindor team back to the stadium. Once they had put some distance between themselves and the Slytherins, Wood could no longer contain his excitement.

"This will work," Wood said. "We'll make this work. We'll have to get you a broom though. We can't have you flying one those school broom; they'll never do."

"Yes," McGonagall though out loud, "That will be difficult."

"Uh," Harry hesitated, "So, I'm allowed a broom now?"

"Yes Mr. Potter," McGonagall confirmed. "You're on the team officially, so of course that rule no longer applies to you."

"So, if I were to have a broom… here that is, in the castle," Harry said, "that'd be okay?"

McGonagall stopped walking and turned to Harry.

"You brought a broom to school," McGonagall said, watching him for a sign that confirmed she understood him correctly. "Of course you did," she mumbled. "You knew it was forbidden, Mr. Potter."

"Not anymore," Harry pointed out, "you said so."

McGonagall look away from him, red in the face.

"That's great," Wood said, "what model do you fly?"

"Oakshaft 79," Harry answered.

"Nice broom," Wood commented, "good maneuverability. Doesn't hit the top speeds Diggory or Higgs can pull off, but we can deal with that."

Wood continued to talk strategy as they entered the Gryffindor locker room.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: I made an excel sheet and I've figured out which grades/houses have what classes at what time. That list is my reasoning for why each class meets only twice a week. It's the only way I've been able make it work without classes running into late evening. Otherwise, Hogwarts would need more professors.

You may have noticed Georgina Smith and Sophie Roper listed as first year dorm mates to Hermione. The names can be found on a list of JK Rowling's original 40 students in Harry's year. The first name "Georgina" is crossed out in exchange for "Sally". However, there is a Sally-Anne already in Harry's year. I went with "Georgina", to save confusion.

All spells, wizards, magical artifacts mentioned in this story can be traced in origin to books, interviews, games, etc. For example: the Oakshaft 79 is a broom from cannon that was designed in 1879. For this story, it was first released to the public in 1979.

**Next Chapter:** Harry heads to the pitch.


	10. Chapter Ten: Waiting for the Moment

**Chapter 10: Chapter Ten: Waiting for the Moment**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the franchise of Harry Potter. The world and characters used in this story belongs to J.K. Rowling. Material has been altered to suit the needs of this fanfiction.

**Warning:** This story is rated M for strong language and graphic violence.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Ten:<strong>

**Waiting for the Moment**

**...**

**Hagrid's Hut, 5 October 1991**

On the day of Harry's first game as the Gryffindor Seeker, he was roughly awoken by a red and gold face painted Seamus Finnegan, and dragged by his fellow dorm mates to a breakfast full of gut-flipping commentary of games past. The most tragic and terrifying stories were, of course, the highlight of conversations. It was during a retelling of Oliver Wood's career starting head injury, when Harry finally made his escape.

Harry took reprieve from the fanatic school spirit by spending the remainder of the morning with Hagrid and Black Dog. Hagrid insisted that Harry need not help in his chores on such an important day, but Harry felt more at home with the work than being surrounded by the overbearing yet well-meaning Quidditch fandom. His time with Hagrid ended when Professor Quirrell's owl, Hedwig, delivered a message to the large wizard.

"Sorry ta run off on ya Harry," Hagrid said from the doorway of his small hut, "Quirrell said he'd be needin' a hand with a package. He reckoned it might be somethin' I wouldn't wanna miss."

"It's no problem," Harry answered back. "I need to get ready for the match soon anyway."

"Always a pleasure havin' ya stop by," Hagrid said. "I'll be rootin' for ya later."

Harry watched from the stone steps of the hut as Hagrid headed for the main gate. On top the hill to the south of him, the castle was full of life, with students and staff still preparing for the day's game in splashes of color and noise. Though Harry knew the halls were buzzing with excitement, he could see and hear none of it from the calm and quiet of the hut. It was just Harry and Black Dog. He now saw why Hagrid truly enjoyed his life on the Hogwarts grounds; it was serenity.

A cool breeze drifted in from somewhere beyond the western shores of Black Lake, sweeping Harry's hair from his face, and momentarily revealing his lightning bolt shaped scar. He pulled on his red and gold scarf, and hugged himself to get warmer. Turning his head from the cold, his eyes fell to the lone magical willow tree standing in the northeastern field. Though he had been warned to never go near the Whomping Willow, Harry enjoyed viewing the slow waving of its thick, club-like branches from afar.

Black Dog barked to alert Harry that Hagrid was finally out of view.

"You ready?" Harry asked his canine godfather.

Black Dog barked and then raced off around the far side of the chicken coop, but Harry caught up with him just behind the hut only a few feet from the tree line. Harry was confused why Black Dog hadn't continued his path into the Forbidden Forest as usual, until he saw the nearby stables.

Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott and Sally-Anne Perks were gathered along the fence, petting a tamed Re-em. The girls paid Harry and Black Dog no mind, thoroughly enraptured by the creature before them. Harry shuddered at the thought of sharing Care for Magical Creatures with the girls when the class would become available in third year. They would be a nightmare to work with as they cooed and cuddled every beast presented to them.

The girls were often around whenever Harry visited Black Dog, playing with whatever new cute animal Professor Kettleburn left for Hagrid to manage for his classes. With its golden fur and ox-like size, the Re-em was a fascinating magical creature to behold. The beast leaned heavily against the fence, enjoying the affection from the young girls. The posts bowed a bit from the weight, and Harry could not help but wonder what would happen if the Re-em were to put just a little more pressure on the barrier and manage an escape.

Though the Hufflepuffs seemed to not notice them, Harry and Black Dog changed course to avoid risking suspicion. The duo headed for the Quidditch Pitch instead, choosing to duck behind it before entering the forest from there. Once they were sure they weren't followed, Black Dog returned to the wizarding form of Sirius Black.

"I still can't believe it," Sirius said, smiling broadly, "but it is rather fitting. A Potter got the first years banned from flying, and now it's another who's got the sole exception to play."

Harry could hardly believe what happened either, but mostly he was just glad to be back on a broom again. Fred and George warned practices with Oliver Wood, the team's captain and Keeper, were brutal. In truth, Harry found the fifth year to be fanatic when it came to the team, but his training was not any more strenuous than the drills Sirius ran Harry through back at Privet Drive. Wood was even appreciative of Harry when he suggested using tennis balls to simulate Bludger dodging during practices. Though in most practices, Harry only trained his hand-eye coordination by catching golf balls hit to him by Fred and George, who were the Beaters for the team.

The other three members of the Quidditch team, Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell, were the team's Chasers. Angelina and Alicia were on the team last year, and spent most of their time incorporating the other chaser into their playing style. Katie was new to the team, only a year ahead of Harry in school. To get up to speed, Katie and Harry could be often found in the Gryffindor Common Room studying Oliver's playbook, passed down to him from Ron Weasley's second oldest brother, Charlie.

"Practice has been great," Harry began, "but I'm nervous about the game. Wood's got a strategy for compensating for my broom, but a lot's riding on me to pull it off."

"You'll be fine Harry," Sirius said. "You're a better flyer than you think. You'll catch the Snitch, and then you'll celebrate with firewhiskey until you're sick."

The infamous post-match Gryffindor parties, the Weasley twins talked of them fondly. Usually the first years were sent off to bed soon after they began, but they promised to change that for their new Seeker.

"Just remember to pay attention to the score," Sirius said. "Don't grab the Snitch unless Gryffindor can still win."

Harry would remember. Oliver had been beating it into his head every practice. The matches were not timed events. They lasted as long as it took until a Seeker caught the Golden Snitch, sometimes taking minutes, and in a rare few cases, several days. But the Snitch was only worth 50 points. With each Quaffle thrown through an outer hoop earning 10 and a shot to the center hoop earning 20, catching the Snitch was enough to decide the game, but not enough to insure a victory.

"Now, you better get going," Sirius said, giving Harry a one-armed hug. "Wood will want you early."

As Harry started for the clearing, Sirius added, "Come by the hut in the morning. I want to see how good your Eradication Spell has gotten. Last time it only erased the last three spells on your wand.'

"And Harry," Sirius added, "kick Slytherin's arse!"

* * *

><p><strong>Quidditch Pitch, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, 5 October 1991<strong>

Harry stuck his head out from the Gryffindor locker room to see the filling stands. With the game moments away, Harry was starting to realize what he was getting himself into. Too many people were going to be watching. There were more than just students attending the game. A large section of adult wizards filled the stands to the west, on either side of the tall press box.

"How many wizards are out there?" Harry questioned aloud.

"The stadium holds 800 as it is," a Weasley twin said from behind him.

"Gryffindor verse Slytherin is a grudge match," the other twin said. "So, the stands should be pretty close to capacity."

"Plus I heard a rumor the _Boy Who Lived_ is supposed to play," the first twin said again.

"Oh, think we can get his autograph?" the second twin asked.

Harry turned around to give a glare to the twins. Their joke would have been funny if he had not been bombarded by fans clamoring for his autograph every day since he joined the team. Quidditch was always a popular topic. That a first year was playing, was unheard of. That the first year was the_ Boy Who Lived_, was apparently too monumental to give said boy a moment of peace.

"Relax," The first twin said to Harry. The large number '5' printed on his jersey told Harry this was Fred. "Worse case, you humiliate yourself in front of the whole school and it makes the papers by morning."

"Or you take a Bludger straight to the temple," George, wearing the number '6' jersey, added.

"Thanks," Harry jested, "that's real comfort." Again, he turned to look out at the stands, this time at the Gryffindor section.

"Who you looking for?" Fred asked.

"My friends," Harry answered despite being distracted by his search.

"They'll show," George promised. "Even Neville seemed excited to see you play."

"He finally get over that bit of trouble McGonagall sent your way?" Fred asked.

"Yeah," Harry said with a smile. Guilt still resurfaced every time an upper year gave Neville a dirty look, but it was a relief to have Neville back in his corner. After his clash with the Slytherin team, Neville started speaking to Harry again, and from there Harry was able to earnestly apologize. He also promised to let Neville in on the whole plan the next time Neville protested one of his schemes.

Besides the Quidditch fanatics, the last week and a half had been the best days he'd ever had. He had true friends, and he found another family member he actually liked in the form of Tonks. After spending that first full afternoon with the older girl, it seemed she had taken to him as well, promising to check-in on him again soon. And of course, he had Sirius and flying with the Gryffindor Quidditch Team.

"Turns out he did us a bit of a favor," George admitted, still talking about Neville.

When Harry's eyebrows furrowed in question, Fred continued for his brother, "Who knew they'd crackdown so hard this year on students being out after hours?"

"Had a whole plan figured out for the beginning of the year, we did," George stated.

"Planned on the raid to end all raids," said Fred.

"Stealing Dumbledore's dining chair or something?" Harry asked, both curious of the answer and thankful for the distracting conversation before his first match.

"No, but I like how you think," George said. "Add that to the list Fred."

"Right-o George," Fred mock saluted. He then returned to topic. "Filch has a few decades of contraband in his office; keeps it all hidden in storage. We're gonna nick the best of it."

"_The Marauders_," George said the name in reverence.

Harry's attention to the twins' plan doubled in focus at the mention of his father and godfather's group of friends.

"We took a peek in Filch's office last year after he tried to pin us for turning Mrs. Norris's skin blue and making her fur fall out," George continued. "Pulled a drawer and found a room behind his filing cabinets. There's a whole trunk with that name on it. Later in the year, ol' McGonagall told us she hadn't seen bigger troublemakers since them, the Marauders. That's when we realized what we stumbled on."

_A trunk set aside just for the Marauders_? If Filch confiscated those items, then they surely must have been used for all sorts of no good. It certainly gave credence to some of Sirius's more wild claims of Hogwarts days gone by.

"Filch is a Squib," Fred added. "So, all his stuff is just under your standard bewitched trunk lock and key. We've figured out the right spell for it. So now, once we're in, it's easy pickings."

"Then why wait?" Harry asked. Sirius was obviously a bad influence. Harry was finding all of this talk about rule breaking far too exciting for anything good to come of it. It appealed to him, the idea that some of his own father's things could be used again by another generation of pranksters.

"It's the getting in that's the trouble," George explained. "Only door harder to get past is the one to the Headmaster's office. Filch claims Dumbledore himself placed the protections on his door, and even if we break in, Filch gets signaled if it opens without the right password."

"Best way we can figure getting inside is to get caught and sent there by Filch himself," Fred said.

"And there lies our problem," said George. "We don't mind losing a few points. We've always been good at turning Gryffindors' favor back our way with a few pranks on the Slytherins."

"But 50 points each to first years?" Fred continued. "The House would eat us alive for the same punishment 'cause we're supposed to 'know better', whatever that means. Plus McGonagall's bound to crackdown harder on us. She always has in the past, what with our unjust reputations and all."

"So plans have changed," George declared. "No months of banishment on our end, thank you very much."

"So you're just giving up?" Harry thought that to be a good idea, but it was still surprising to imagine the twins backing down. Initially Harry was eager to tell his godfather about the trunk, but if the twin's didn't go for it, Sirius would probably expect Harry to do it. Maybe it was best to not mention the confiscated items until he knew the twins pilfered them first.

"Course not," Fred said.

"We're just putting it off right up 'til the holiday," George said with a toothy grin.

"A few days at home for Christmas and everyone will forget all about being mad at us for a couple points deficit," Fred nodded to his brother as he spoke.

"Who cares about the House Cup when you have a trunk full of contraband to share?" Harry questioned sarcastically. He doubted everything would work as they hoped.

"Oi," Oliver shouted from behind them. "Don't know what you're saying, but quit corrupting the firstie. We've got a game to win."

* * *

><p>Harry circled high above the pitch, ignoring the taunts from the other Seeker to get in the thick of it. This was Wood's plan. Harry flew a quality broom, but it was not made for the Seeker position. Quick to turn, yet slow to accelerate; it was more suitable for the role of Keeper. Once Harry was on the tail of the Snitch, the tiny fluttering ball that ended the match, Harry's broom would prove adequate enough to compete against the other Seeker's broom. In close pursuit, Harry's dexterity would make up for the other boy's speed. The trick was getting into position to put his broom's specialty to use.<p>

From above, Harry watched the match unfold. The three Gryffindor chasers were fast and agile, outmaneuvering the more brutish Slytherin lineup. The girls played a three-in-tandem offense. Alicia, as weak-side chaser, passed low to Angelina, the team's center forward. Angelina narrowly missed a rogue Bludger before Fred sent it of careening into Bole, a Slytherin Beater too focused on trying to knock Oliver out of the game. Angelina came in hot toward the left goal post before quickly passing to the strong-side forward, Katie Bell, who shot and scored Gryffindor's third hoop this match.

"And Gryffindor scores another one!" Lee Jordan shouted from the announcer's booth. "It appears Slytherins heavy hitters are no match for Gryffindor's fabulous flyer. Slytherin 20, Gryffindor 30."

The crowd of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws cheered along with the Gryffindor team. Only Angelina seemed disappointed with the results, and even then, just. They had yet to score from the center hoop, the goal worth double than the two on the outside. Slytherin's lone score had gone through the center ring, after Wood took two Bludgers in quick succession to the stomach early in the match. That kept the game close even though the Gryffindor Chasers were clearly the superior force on the field.

With Slytherin in possession of the Quaffle, Harry watched in awe as Fred and George fired a Bludger back and forth down the pitch like one of Dudley's old _Pong_ video games. The Bludger disrupted Sytherin's momentum, allowing for a steal by Alicia, who lobbed the Quaffle into Angelina's open arms. Clear for the shot, she threw a bullet straight for the center. Gryffindor was now up 30 points on Slytherin.

Terence Higgs, the Slytherin Seeker, quit taunting Harry to redouble his efforts in finding the Snitch. If Higgs found the golden ball now, they could still win the game.

With a sneaky foul from the Slytherin Chaser Warrington, Katie was sent spiraling out of play, allowing his teammate Pucey to have open field with the Quaffle. Madam Hooch, the referee for the match, did not see the illegal contact, and let the play continue. Oliver set up, ready for Slytherin's shot, but Flint flew by Oliver's line of sight at the last minute, distracting him just long enough for Pucey to score through the middle hoop.

"Oh!" Lee Jordan exclaimed over the loud speaker, "cheap shot by Slytherin puts the game back within 10."

Harry continued to keep track of the game while observing the pitch for the Snitch. Higgs flew nearby once more, clearly taking a break from the action. Fred and George had done a number on him with the Bludgers. He tried to pull Harry into chasing him, pretending to spot the Snitch and then taking a steep dive. Seeing that Harry still wasn't biting, he moved to the other side of the field, to search for the Snitch from there.

The game had gone on for another 20 minutes, both teams taking their turns at scoring, but Gryffindor was still up. It was after a near miss by Warrington of the Slytherins, when Harry spotted something shining just below and behind Oliver. Not wanting to tip his hand to the much closer Higgs, Harry slowly hovered to the Slytherin goals, signaling a play to his captain from across the field. Harry really hoped this worked. Oliver's strategy was risky and required a fair amount of deception on the part of Gryffindor.

With Harry flying high above the opposite side of the field from the Snitch, Oliver sent the whole of the Gryffindor team, save Harry, to the middle of the field. Still far above the action, Harry began to dive a few feet toward the Slytherin's post. It was the first move Harry had taken all game, and that was all it took for a fan to yell out that Harry had found the Snitch.

Higgs shot through the air at top speed to cover the long stretch of ground, and the other Slytherins moved into positions to add him on that side of the pitch. Once Harry thought Higgs was far enough from the actual Snitch, he turned the direction of his dive and pushed his broom to go as fast as it could.

Harry crossed midfield before Higgs realized his mistake. Higgs changed his course to follow, but was met with opposition. The Slytherins had all moved near their own goal. Now they were cut off from the other goal post by the Gryffindor team. This bought Harry more than enough time to swoop in and make the grab unchallenged.

"Gryffindor 140, Slytherin 70," Lee cheered from the press box.

The crowd roared for the Lions of Gryffindor, and the team swarmed Harry in congratulations. From his position between three tightly hugging Chasers, Harry saw the first year Gryffindors as the chanted his name.

"It worked," Harry was ecstatic, "you're play works!"

"It worked this time," Oliver said, still grinning broadly from the victory, "but we'll have to switch things up to beat Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. They'd see this one coming now. Don't worry; we have a couple weeks to come up with something."

He was right of course, the same trick play wouldn't fool the other teams; they'd need a new plan, or maybe Harry needed a new broom. Harry decided that kind of thought could wait for another night, though. Tonight they would celebrate their victory over Slytherin.

The teams flew to their separate locker rooms, and Harry sat through Oliver's shortest speech to date. It appeared he wanted to start celebrating just as badly as anyone else. Soaking it all in, Harry was the last to leave the room, and joined Katie Bell on the way back to the common room.

"I can't believe we won," Harry said as they walked the grounds between the pitch and the castle.

"Of course we did," Katie said confidently. "We could win the whole thing this year."

"Do you think we can take Ravenclaw in a couple weeks?" Harry asked.

"They're the weak link this year," Katie answered. "Their Chasers are decent, but their defense is a joke. You saw how they fared against Hufflepuff last week."

He did. The Ravenclaws Chasers put up a good show, but their Beaters and Keeper could not handle the Hufflepuff's unity. It was Hufflepuff's Seeker who was the most impressive though.

"I heard Hufflepuff is the favorite this year," Harry pointed out.

"Well, that was before today," Katie said. "Their youngest player is a fourth year. Everyone figured odds go to the more experienced team."

"You don't think so?" Harry wondered.

"Sure, experience counts for a lot," Katie began. "You and I are just rookies, and the girls and the twins only have a year under their belt. I can't wait to see how good we'll be in a couple years. But right now, we've still got the raw talent. With the way Oliver's working us, that'll be enough for Hufflepuff."

She was right in a sense. The twins communicated in a way that allowed them to seamlessly switch for zone to man coverage, and the Chasers were all gifted on a broom. With Oliver as their oldest player as a solid and experienced Keeper, the team would only continue to get better. Harry still worried about Hufflepuff. It had been on his mind since he joined Tonks to watch the Ravenclaw Hufflepuff matchup the weekend before.

The two continued walking up stone steps that climbed the rolling hill to the castle. It wasn't until they began to pass under the long garden arches when Harry spoke again, mostly just to fill the silence.

"You did great today, Katie," Harry said, thinking of her two scores against the Slytherins.

"Thanks Harry," Katie said, rather proud of her accomplishments. "You did well too; way to not give into Higgs."

"He wasn't very subtle," Harry shrugged off the compliment. "Oliver prepared me for something cleverer."

"I don't know if I could have resisted all of his jabs," she honestly spoke.

"I've heard worse," Harry admitted.

"Like when I say you cheated to get on the team?" Draco Malfoy said casually, appearing near the castle's entrance.

He must have been hiding for quite a while. The archway had been visible since Harry left the locker rooms on the south side of the pitch. Obviously he had been waiting to ambush.

"You should've been expelled and yet here you are," Draco sneered, "the youngest Seeker in a century. Of course we both already knew the rules don't apply to you as they do the rest of us."

Draco moved to block the entrance to the castle, keeping the two Gryffindors from walking away.

"The Boy Who Lived can do no wrong it seems," Draco added, attempting to provoke a reaction.

"A Slytherin is complaining about favoritism?" Katie asked in mock surprise.

"See you found a new Mudblood to play with," Draco said to Harry, ignoring Katie's comment.

Katie's mouth hung open in dismay. It had been over a year since the last time she heard someone call her that. Even the Slytherin Quidditch team refrained from calling her a 'Mudblood' while they were on the pitch together.

"Watch it Draco," Harry warned.

"Please, I beg you to do something," Draco dared. "I'm not challenging you to a duel this time. There's no one throwing rocks at you either. If my father found out you attacked me for no reason, well, I doubt you'd be his favorite anymore."

_That's your game?_ Harry wondered. _You're just going to keep pushing until I slip up? Good luck with that._

"I think your dad would be a little preoccupied with other matter right now, don't you think?" Katie asked.

Harry looked at her in confusion, while Draco just glared hard at her. Harry was missing something.

"Lord Malfoy has his hands tied with the Ministry," Katie explained to Harry. "The Quibbler's been all over him since summer. Looks like they finally got the Aurors' attention; raided his office yesterday. It made the front page."

"And they'll find nothing," Draco angrily interjected. "That's what happens when you follow the lead of a trashy tabloid."

"Only if he got tipped off first," Katie added.

"Listen here," Draco moved closer to Katie, "the Ministry can't touch father, and the Quibbler can say what they will. It'll only make Lovegood's comeuppance all the sweeter when father decides he's worthy of his time. You'd be wise to remember that. I may not be able to touch you here; fine, so be it. Someday _I'll_ be Lord Malfoy, but you'll always be a filthy Mudblood."

"And what will I be Draco?" Harry said, stepping between the two. "Katie's my friend, and as long as I'm around, you've got to get through me first. I don't care what title you have."

"I guess we'll see how long you'll stick around then," Draco said before takeoff to the dungeons of the castle.

"What a vile little worm," Katie fumed. "We should've taught him a lesson."

"Don't pay him any attention," Harry said. "He's looking for a reaction; you heard him. He hopes to get me caught breaking the rules, like what happened to him at the beginning of the year."

Katie grinned, "Aha! So you did have a hand it all that. I knew it. How did you get past McGonagall?"

Harry twisted his head around, making sure they were both alone. Katie suffered Draco for him, at least he could do was give a little truth in return.

He leaned in a whispered, "Followed right behind her when she entered the common room. The guys covered for me, said I was in the loo."

That lifted Katie's spirits. By the time they reached the seventh floor, both Gryffindors had put the incident with Draco behind them, and they were once again chatting about the game, pausing only to give the password to the portrait of the Fat Lady guarding the common room entrance.

The doors swung open and their renewed conversation was abruptly drowned out by the reception from within. Things were already in full swing, the rest of Gryffindor not waiting for the team to get started. Katie was immediately pulled away from Harry to talk to the other second years. Now on his own, Harry fought through the crowd of well-wishers before spotting his friends.

They were in the far back corner, near a tall window. Hermione sat quietly with Sophie Roper, neither much for partying. The other girls appeared to be more interested in the way Oliver looked in his red Quidditch jersey. It was the rather animated boys who saw Harry first.

"Well done Harry," Dean said. "That was the first game I've seen; had to have Seamus explain most of it, but that was quite the show."

"That was terrifying," Hermione spoke up from her seated position. "With those Bludgers flying around and Flint on the field, I was so worried… You did wonderfully."

"Hey, Harry!" Ron shouted louder than needed. "Here, have a shot of firewhiskey." He leaned in closer to Harry's ear. Whispering, he added, "Nicked it from George; don't tell."

Ron pushed the bottle forward to Harry.

"Ronald," Hermione hissed, "Harry's not drinking that."

"Too right he's not," George said, taking the bottle back from Ron, "I was looking for this. Sorry Harry, good game though."

Harry laughed at Ron's disappointment, and eventually even Ron joined in. Everyone was in the mood for celebration. As the night grew on, the first years moved from the window, and took over the seating around the fireplace. It's usually occupants, the seventh years, had long departed for their not so secret joint 'study room' at the top of Gryffindor Tower.

Harry tuned out the party and stared into the fire. He just couldn't shake the feeling that these good times wouldn't last. Perhaps it was from his upbringing. Harry wasn't used to things going his way. Before Hogwarts, Sirius was the only exception. Now, with everything in his favor, his mind kept returning to his conversation with Draco Malfoy.

Feeling a hand rub against his arm, he turned in the loveseat to find warm brown eyes staring back at him curiously.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione asked him. "You seem a bit troubled."

"It's just something Draco said. It's got me thinking," Harry spoke softly so no one else could hear. When he saw Hermione's reaction to Draco's name, Harry explained further, "He was waiting for me after the game. I think he was trying to provoke me into attacking him. When you combined that with the way he convinced Flint to come at me at our flying lessons, it seems he's still pretty determined to get revenge."

"It makes sense," Hermione reasoned. "Those are certainly better plans than jumping you in the hallway after hours. We thought that night would make him back down, instead it's just making him act smarter and get others, including you, to do his dirty work for him."

"What are you downers frownin' about?" Seamus said in jest.

"Uh, nothing…" Harry didn't feel like bringing Draco again. "Just worried about the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff matches," Harry offered, voicing something that did have him troubled before crossing paths with Draco.

"Ravenclaw's got nothing on Gryffindor," Ron chimed in loudly. He paused for the roar of cheer from other groups of students who overheard the proclamation. "And Hufflepuff, that's a month away. You can't spend all your time until then stressing. You've got plenty else to think about in the meantime."

"That was rather insightful," Hermione told Ron.

"Yeah, like the Halloween Feast," Ron added, making Hermione regret the compliment she just gave him. "I hear it's better than the first of the year. Pumpkin pies, turkey and ham, I can't wait; makes me hungry just thinking about it."

Seamus pushed Ron out of his way so he could see Harry when he spoke, "What Ron _means_ to say is don't over think it. You've got time to get ready, and if you lose a game, you play 'em again in the spring. We've got the first win; Worry about the other five when you get to 'em."

Harry leaned back in his seat again and felt Hermione recline with him. They sat comfortably listening to their friends carry on. Harry doubted Hermione was listening too intently though. The conversations continued to revolve around Quidditch. Eventually Hermione asked Harry a question which had been on her mind since Ron's speech.

"Did you know wizards celebrated Halloween so passionately?" she was again whispering so only Harry heard her.

"It's the day Voldemort died," Harry supplied the answer without hesitation. What didn't need to be said was it was also the day Voldemort killed his mother and father.

"We don't have to go to feast if you don't want to," Hermione offered. "We can find the kitchens and eat there if you like."

"No, I want to go," Harry said. "I don't want to make a thing out of it. I'd prefer to pretend it's just another day; nothing special at all."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: The Quidditch stuff got so involved it ended up getting its own chapter. Let me know what you think of the game. I had every intention of skipping around the game, but finally decided to just dive it and a write it.

Quidditch breakdown: Three hoops on each end. The outside hoops are 10 points, with the center worth 20. The Snitch is 50 points (because 150 is ridiculous and makes the rest practically pointless). The teams all play each other twice each, with three games in the fall and three in the spring for each team. Team with the most wins gets the cup. If there is a tie, it falls to totaled point accumulation for the season between the tying teams.

**Next Chapter:** All Harry Potter fans know whenever Halloween arrives, that means trouble for Harry.


	11. Chapter Eleven: Barred from Safety's

**Chapter 11: Chapter Eleven: Barred from Safety's Door**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the franchise of Harry Potter. The world and characters used in this story belongs to J.K. Rowling. Material has been altered to suit the needs of this fanfiction.

**Warning:** This story is rated M for strong language and graphic violence.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eleven:<strong>

**Barred from Safety's Door**

**...**

**Defense Against the Dark Arts****, 31 October 1991**

The room was dimmed. Harry and his fellow first years sat in darkness, with the only light source a flickering candle on the professor's podium. Professor Quirinus Quirrell drew his wand, and the small flame grew in size. Its light bent unnaturally, directed solely at the wall in front of the class. Flicking his wand to a large rolled up canvas; it unraveled and affixed itself to the wall, revealing a map of the world.

"Today's lesson takes us across the Mediterranean Sea to the d-deserts of Africa," Quirrell said, tapping his wand to the wall. The map enlarged a section of the earth and focused on the northeastern region of the African continent. "The Western Desert and the Great Sand Sea hold the last of several magical species. These creatures once flourished in the ancient magical realm along the Nile, when the lands were green and Thebes, home of the current Egyptian Ministry of Magic, was the center of the Magical World.'

"In the beginning of the Eighteenth Dynasty, Queen Hatshepsut expanded trade and began gathering an extensive collection of magical knowledge like which the world had never seen before. Scrolls, c-creatures and artifacts were all obtained and brought to the qu-queen. Many of the creatures were allowed to be freed to the wild where they prospered. This marked the beginning of what is known as the New Kingdom.'

_Wizarding societies existed outside of the United Kingdom?_ Harry sat up straighter in his chair and began to scribble notes. This was by far more interesting than any of the History of Magic lessons Professor Binns covered, most of which were goblin wars in Great Britain.

"Magical Egypt continued to grow in power and knowledge for several generations. At the time, m-Muggles knew of magic, and it was the Pharaoh Amenhotep IV who first attempted to split the Magical and Muggle Worlds. This is why the Muggle capital city of Egypt is no longer in Thebes. This is also the mark of the great culling.'

"Amenhotep IV was a firm believer in the power of lineage, he himself marrying his own sister to preserve magical potential. He also believed the magical species of Egypt were too widespread to be kept secret from Muggles. So, he gathered what he deemed to be the strongest and most magical of creatures and s-slaughtered the rest. This culling lasted long past his reign and continued through the fall of Magical Egypt until only a few extraordinary species remained."

The candle snuffed out, and for a moment the room was black. When the lights returned, Harry found himself rubbing his eyes with the rest of the class to adjust to the fully lit room. When he did, he took notice of Professor Quirrell. Quirrell was now standing by a cloth cover hovering over a large box shaped object.

"One such creature is the sphinx," Quirrell said, resting his hand on top the cloth cover, "a magnificent creature of Egyptian origin. Ancient wizards of the time crossbred other animals to create them, an act now considered dark and illegal. There are several s-sub-species, the Androsphinx being the most infamous. The only species of sphinx able to speak, it is also the most d-deadly to wizards. Once a wizard faces one, they must answer its riddle or die.'

"Now, who wants to see a sphinx up close and personal?" Quirrell asked with cheer.

He swiftly removed the cloth and revealed a sphinx behind iron bars. It filled its cage as it stood, five feet tall, body like a lion, head not unlike a tan curled-horned ram. It looked to the class and bared sharp teeth that clashed against its gentle eyed face, and then let out a cry. It started as a 'roar' but finished more closely to a 'bah', coming out more like a yawn than anything else. Hannah Abbott screamed, and several chairs screeched as students scooted back in their seats.

"Merlin!" Hufflepuff Ernie Macmillan shouted at Quirrell. "What would you go do that for?"

"Why isn't it asking a riddle?" Dean Thomas asked.

"Was the roar the riddle?" Hermione pondered aloud.

"Hermione doesn't know the answer," Ron told Harry, "we're dead!"

"Maybe we have to _find_ the riddle to answer it," Hermione continued. "Is _that_ the riddle?"

"There's n-no riddle," Quirrell hurriedly explained. "I-It's a Criosphinx, different from the Androsphinx. See the ram head? The Androsphinx has a head like a wizard's; that's how it speaks. This is a rather young Criosphinx, very j-jumpy, easy to startle or anger, but harmless within the cage.'

"The Criosphinx is often paired with the Androsphinx. They tend to c-calm each other down, making it possible to handle the Androsphinx without r-risk of…Yes, Mr. Davis?"

Harry turned around to find an older Ravenclaw standing at the entrance to the room.

"Sorry to disturb," Davis apologized. "Professor Kettleburn asked me to fetch you. It seemed urgent."

"T-trouble already?" Quirrell asked Davis. Davis shrugged his shoulders, not knowing why Kettleburn needed Quirrell. "Of-of course, of course, I'll b-be there, r-right away. Class…uh…s-stay."

More jittery than usual, Quirrell rushed from the class with Davis, leaving his students unattended. With the professor gone, class was effectively over, and the first years took advantage the break time. Parvati began braiding Lavender's hair, while listening intently to Sally Anne and Susan discuss what the sphinx's coat would most likely feel like to the touch. Seamus and Ron's chat over professional Quidditch eventually lead to the Hogwarts league and drew in Justin Finch-Fletchley. Seeing Hermione quietly reading her Defense book, the only student to be doing so, Harry was reminded he still had Mathamagics homework due after the lunch break. Quidditch had filled his day and he was starting to fall behind in his studies. Deciding he finally had the time to finish, he switched his Defense text for Mathamagics.

Unfortunately, Harry was not destined to get far on the assignment. Somewhere between questions 11 and 17, an argument arose to distracting volume; Ron and Hermione were at it once again. This was becoming an increasingly common occurrence, and it seemed to be getting worse. What started as little disagreements at the beginning of the year, had grown into constant bickering matches.

Harry was tired of refereeing his two friends and finally decided to let them at each other. Of Course even if he wanted to interfere, he wasn't sure how to go about it. He doubted they even remembered what they were originally fighting over this time. All Harry knew was their disagreement somehow had regressed back to the last week's match with Gryffindor verse Ravenclaw.

Harry would have smiled thinking back to the game if it weren't for the arguing currently around him. The Weasley twins had come up with a rather simple plan for victory. When Harry found the Snitch, he signaled Wood like he had the game prior. Ravenclaw, having seen the play before, flooded to the side opposite of Harry instead of repeating Slytherin's mistake. The Weasleys predicted this. Already on the same side of the pitch from where he located the Snitch, Harry make a quick grab and ended the game Gryffindor 70, Ravenclaw 10. The game barely lasted quarter of an hour.

Currently in the Defense room, Ron and Hermione were debating whether or not Harry's maneuver from the Slytherin game could technically be considered the same play used in the Ravenclaw match. Ron wanted to give the play a classic name like the _Parkin's Pincer_, made famous by the Wigtown Wanderers, or the _Pumpton Pass_, named after the Quidditch Hall of Famer, Rodrick Plumpton.

"Hermione said he'd have to think of two different names," Seamus whispered to Harry, seeing that he was now paying attention to the fight along with the rest of the class. "One for each play, she says. Ron gave up arguin' ages ago; now it's just shoutin' insults mostly."

"Two names?" Ron shouted, "I'll give you two names: _Know-it-all bookworm_!"

"That's a two word name, not two names!" Hermione yelled back.

Harry hoped they'd both just run out of steam and agree to disagree. Instead, things got worse. It was all thanks to Neville's interference and Ron's losing point of view, things turned truly ugly. He meant well, it was plan to see. Poor Neville tried to mediate a peace between the two Gryffindors but got his head verbally snapped off instead.

"Maybe if you two just walk away for now and cool off…" Neville began.

"Great Neville, thanks," Ron said. "Maybe if we take a nap Hermione will pull her head out of her arse. Real keen advice; did your gran tell you that one?"

"Ron," Hermione said, still mad. "He's only trying to help." Turning to Neville she added, "Really Neville, I appreciate it, but we can handle this ourselves."

"I-I just…" Neville never got to finish.

"What, Nev? Spit it out already," Ron said to him, "You sound like Quirrell."

"Never mind," Neville said quietly. He grabbed his books and left the classroom in a hurry.

"Terrific Ron," Hermione said, throwing her hands in the air. "You ran Neville off."

"Wish you'd do the same," Ron said back.

"Ron," Harry warned, finally having enough.

It was too late; Hermione headed out the door in a huff, leaving her bag behind.

"She left," Ron said, bewildered by the action.

"Yup," Harry said. "Now we have two pissed off friends roaming the halls."

"I didn't think she'd actually leave," Ron protested. Harry could hear the guilt creeping in.

"Well, she did," Harry said, getting up and putting his papers away. "Are you going to help me find them or what?"

The initial search came out fruitless, and eventually Harry had to beg off the hunt for Quidditch practice. Oliver had him running drills twice a day in preparations for his match-up against Cedric Diggory, arguably the best Seeker of the season. This time, practice was eating into his lunch hour. Harry would have to have a word with Oliver. He loved flying, but missing lunch and leaving unfinished homework wasn't something he could let go on much longer.

After practice, Harry checked in with Ron. He discovered neither Neville nor Hermione showed up for lunch. When neither turned up for Mathamagics, that was when Harry really worried. Hermione especially was not one to miss a class. They both were obviously more upset than he first realized. On the other hand, it looked like Ron was finally recognizing just how badly he hurt his two friends.

Failing to find Neville in the greenhouse after their second pass though, Harry and Ron hoped their friends decided to show up for dinner. As it was, Harry and Ron were already late, not properly judging the distance from the first year greenhouse to the Great Hall. Ron, always too hungry to miss a meal, nearly jogged to the large holiday feast waiting for them. Halloween was the anniversary of Voldemort's demise and a reminder of Harry's murdered parents. Naturally, Harry was not in such a hurry to celebrate, but he didn't want to be left behind and chose to match pace.

Approaching the west doors of the Entrance Hall, they spotted one of their missing friends. He was heading the same direction they were, but not nearly at the same quickened pace.

"Neville!" Ron shouted, running full speed now. "Thank Merlin we found you. We've been looking all over since Defense."

"You have?" The startled boy asked.

"Yeah," Ron said in a much more sedated tone. His head was down in shame. "I wanted say sorry. I was a real prat back there." Ron looked up to judge Neville's reaction, and then spoke again. "You've got red on you," Ron pointed to a powdery smug across Neville's check. "Where've you been?"

"Huh?" Neville said, wiping at his face with his robe. He moved his head in odd angles trying see the mark on his own face. "I went to the greenhouse. Sprout's been letting me take care of the new Valerian bush she's growing. Flowers were in full bloom and everything. That's what this is," Neville said, waving to his red powdered cheek. "It's Valerian pollen; I had it all over and had to go back to the dorms to change. Anyway, that's when I realized I had lost track of time… and here I am."

"We checked the greenhouse and didn't see you," Harry said.

"Oh," Neville said, looking a bit sheepish, "The Valerian is in the third year greenhouse. Sprout says I'm not bad with the plants; so I could use it."

"That's impressive Nev," Ron said.

The boys traveled together to the doors of the Great Hall. Ron reached for them, but he hesitated.

"Never seen anyone show up late to dinner," Ron said. "You think we're allowed?"

"Surely," Harry answered, pondering the question. "I imagine Percy would have told us if we weren't."

"Make way!" a voice rang from the Grand Staircase.

The three Gryffindors jumped out of the path of Professor Quirrell as he came barreling into the Entrance Hall. Rushing past them, he burst through the doors of the Great Hall. He was panicked, possibly suffering from shock. He looked roughed up as well. His robes were torn and he held his purple scarf to his head to cover a fresh wound.

"Trolls!" Quirrell yelled. "T-trolls loose in the castle! From the…th-the…uh…dungeons…"

The sounds of silverware clattering and murmurs from the student body carried out in the Entrance Hall.

"Trolls?" Ron asked Harry from confirmation. His voice was trembling.

"Silence!" Dumbledore commanded. "Students, remain where you are. Professors move to the staff courters. Minerva, the doors if you would. Filius, summon Severus. Quirinus, perhaps…"

Further instruction was muffled by the magical closing of the door, protecting the students within. The action was followed by a series of clanking sounds. Harry assumed they were additional locks. That meant a basic _Alohomora_ wouldn't suffice. The three Gryffindor first years were trapped on the outside. Ron immediately tried to push the doors open.

"I can't get in," Ron said. "What do we do?"

"I can't hear anything from inside," Harry pointed out.

"If we can't hear them, then they can't hear us," Neville said, seeing where Harry was going with his statement. "It must be a charm."

"Yeah," Harry replied, and then paused to think, "Quirrell came from the staircase. It stands to reason the trolls are that way too. We'll hide somewhere the other direction. Come on."

Harry moved to head for the lower levels of the castle, but Ron stopped him.

"The trolls came from the dungeons," Ron told him. "Quirrell said so."

"No, that doesn't make sense," Harry said back. "Quirrell came from one of the upper levels; you saw."

Ron and Harry shared a look between them. Quirrell came from somewhere above the ground floor. Either he was confused from the injury to his head, or he was covering up the true location of the trolls for some reason. The last time either boy saw a dangerous creature in the castle, it was in the Forbidden Corridor on the third floor. Whatever happened, it most likely had to do with that corridor.

"Which way do we go, up or down?" Neville asked.

"Neither," Harry answered. "I'm not risking it either way. We head out the main doors and circle back around to Hagrid's Hut. We'll wait it out there."

The boys headed for the doors but Harry stopped them again.

"Damn," Harry cursed. "What about Hermione? We never found her."

"Maybe she was at dinner," Ron offered. "We didn't get the chance to check."

"We can't be for certain though," Harry reminded the redhead.

"I think she is," Neville said. "Uh, I just remembered…sorry… I saw her in the common room when I went to the tower to change. She was headed there when I walked in."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked Neville desperately.

"Yeah, pretty sure," Neville assured his friend. "She was just going to stop by Defense, to see if she'd left her bag, and then head right there."

"That bag, you mean?" Ron said, pointing to the one over Harry's shoulder.

Harry looked to the door leading outside, then to the staircase.

"I'm going to the Defense classroom," Harry told the other boys. "I'll meet you at Hagrid's after."

"Wait Harry," Ron said. He looked unsure of himself; so did Neville. "Oh hell…I'm going with."

"Yeah," Neville said with less confidence, "me too."

"Okay," Harry agreed to their inclusion. "Whatever happens, we stick together."

They heard loud thumping sounds as they climbed the stairs to the second floor, but all was quiet again by the time they reached the hall containing the Quirrell's classroom. The Gryffindors crept silently, and clung to the shadows. Their path was lit only by the light emanating from the open door of the Defense class on the right side of the hall.

"I don't hear anything," Ron said. "That's a good sign."

"Or a really bad one," Neville pointed out. He quickly added, "Sorry Harry; I'm sure she's fine."

"Right," Harry said, moving further down the hall.

He was the first to the door. From his view, pressed to the wall, all he could see were empty desks. Still not hearing any new sounds, Harry nodded his head to Neville and Ron, and they entered the room, shutting the door behind them.

Harry instantly spotted Hermione. She was seated on the floor, struggling to get up.

"Hermione," Harry whispered, rushing to her side.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, rubbing her eyes to see clearly.

"Shush," Harry said. "It's me. We've got to be quiet. Come on."

Harry helped Hermione to her feet.

"Harry," Neville's voice came out barely more than a breath. "Harry," he said again, gesturing to a spot over Quirrell's desk, "move."

It was a mess. The left side of the room looked nearly untouched, but the right rows of desk had been torn a part in a path of destruction leading to Quirrell's flipped over desk. There was something on the other side: something large and hunched over among bent rebar and wreckage.

_Is the sphinx loose?_ Harry wondered.

"T-troll," Ron squeaked from the left side of the room. He was toward the front of the class and had a clear view of the beast's back.

The monster stiffened and then its head lifted at the sound of Ron's utterance. Spotting the intruders, the troll rose. It was bulky and long armed. Harry couldn't help but compare it to Hagrid's massive form. It was nearly Hagrid's height, but the troll was far from human in appearance. Its hairless green hide was ridged and leathery; its square chin was adorned with two small horns, matching the protruding tusks that extended upward over its lips. Red fluid leaked from the side of its mouth as it roared and threw the contents in its hand. Ron was hit in the chest by the projectile and knocked over.

"Run!" Harry shouted, pulling Hermione along.

"Oh, oh," Ron repeated, looking at the half eaten remains covering his robe. He held the largest bit by the horn, staring into dead black eyes. "It's the sphinx! It was eating it… I'm drenched in dead goat head…"

"Neville get Ron," Harry command, as he continued to drag Hermione to the door.

The green monster roared again and stomped toward Ron, tossing Quirrell's desk out if its way. The wooden desk went sailing through the air. Harry ducked as it passed over his head and it slammed into the closed door. The troll then grabbed the professor's podium and swung it wildly, like a club, crashing it down in the spot Ron was only a moment before.

Fortunately, Neville had reached Ron in time, and hauled him out of the way. That got Ron moving again. He grabbed onto Neville and led him zigzagging through the rows of still upright desks. The pursuing troll was slowed down by the obstacles but it continued to give chase. It was slow, Harry realized. It could not keep up with Ron's sudden changes in course.

"Ron," Harry said, "head to the far side of the room, then double back. You and Nev help Hermione with the door."

Harry stepped toward the troll and removed Hermione's heavy book bag from his shoulders.

"Hey, over here," Harry shouted to pull the troll's attention away from Ron and Neville.

Swinging around the bag as hard as he could, he let go and watched as it collided with the troll's head. That did it; the troll changed targets and was now headed for Harry. Harry ran straight at the troll, counting on its slow movements and his quick reflexes to keep himself alive. Dodging it last minute, the troll stumbled on its feet.

Harry, the quickest of the Gryffindor first years, intended to keep the troll chasing him until the doorway was cleared and they could make their escape. What Harry hadn't calculated on was the long reach of the troll's makeshift club. The podium hit the desk next to him, causing it to slam into his side, sending him to the ground. The troll reached back with the podium, ready to land the killing blow, when Hermione cast her spell.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_,"Hermione incanted.

The podium slipped from the troll's grasp and hovered above its head. After its initial confusion, the troll grabbed for the podium and fought the spell for control. Hermione was visibly struggling to maintain the spell, holding her wand with both hands, and did not notice that the beast was coming closer to her as they fought.

"Hermione move," Harry yelled.

The troll was upon her, and it was clear she would lose the strength to keep her spell going long before the troll would tire. Fearing for her life, Harry climbed a desk and leapt onto the troll's back. The combined distractions of Hermione's spell, and Harry grappling with its face from behind, stayed the troll's forward progression. But Hermione was at the end of her ability. Her spell gave, and the troll had his club back.

"Harry," Hermione cried, "you have to do something. Use you're wand, Harry."

The troll continued its blood curdling roars as it tried to shake Harry loose. Harry released his right hand, which had been clawing at the troll's face, and drew his wand. The troll twisted and spun roughly, nearly knocking Harry free from his one arm hold. Harry swung his right arm back around, driving his wand point toward the troll. And the beast went still. Harry felt the troll's body relax, and then drop hard to the floor of the classroom.

Harry closed his eyes tightly, but opened them again when he felt something wrap around him. His vision was blocked by a mane of brown bushy hair; Hermione was hugging him. He felt her body shake as she sobbed tears of relief.

"Is it dead?" Ron asked.

"Looks dead," Neville said, approaching it. "Smell's dead."

"Smelled dead before," Ron pointed out to Neville.

"If you want to leave, we got the door clear," Neville told Harry and Hermione, who were still in an embrace atop the troll.

Hermione pulled back from Harry, looking to the other boys and nodded. Harry was ready too. He wanted to get as far away from this mess as he could. Hermione didn't let go as he made to stand up, and they were still connected when the doors were blasted off their hinges inward. The children found themselves held at wand point.

"Harry?" Headmaster Albus Dumbledore asked, slowly lowering his wand.

It was clear this was not the scene he had expected to walk in upon. He turned and fired a white light, which flew out the open door and stepped aside, allowing Professors Flitwick and McGonagall to enter the room. Flitwick made an 'eep' sound when he saw the dead troll.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall said in her stern voice. She then noticed the other Gryffindors. "Mr. Weasley, Mr. Longbottom… Ms. Granger," she finally chose, "please explain the meaning of this."

"It was terrible," Hermione began. "I left my bag earlier, so I went to fetch it… but I don't know what happened. The next thing I remember, there's a troll in the room…but Harry…the boys," she amended, "saved me."

"If you hadn't spelled the podium, we'd all be goners," Harry added. He then addressed the professors. "We were late to dinner, locked out from the Great Hall."

"It is dead, yes?" Flitwick spoke up as he approached the monster. He covered his nose with one hand and poked the troll in the arm with the other. "Wait," Flitwick mumbled as he took a closer look at it. It was facedown, feet toward the door, so Flitwick hurriedly shuffled around the turned over desks to get a clearer look at its head.

"Can't be too sure, smelled like that before," Ron pointed out again. He was still a good distance from the creature, not wanting to take chances the troll was faking it.

"Yes Filius," Dumbledore answered with certainty. It seemed that Dumbledore was studying the troll as intensely as Flitwick, but from a far. "It appears to be quite dead. How did you manage it, if I may ask?"

The other children looked to Harry. Harry meanwhile, reached around the troll's head, tilting it and withdrew his wand out from the troll's stubby wide nose. Flitwick gasped in recognition when Harry's action gave him a better view of the troll's head.

"Stabbed it," Harry explained, shaking some of the monster's blood off, "must have hit the brain."

"Ogre," Flitwick whispered. "They let loose an ogre."

"I think I'm going to be sick," a pale faced Neville said, once he saw the bloodied wand.

"Filius," McGonagall started at the diminutive professor's claim, "are you sure? How could anyone be so foolish to make the mistake?" Now she too was taking a closer examination of the monster.

"Most definitely," Flitwick stated. Pointing with his wand, he touched the ogre's head. "See the small horns?"

"The musculature, the lack of hair, there is no mistaking it for a troll," Dumbledore offered as evidence. "It would certainly account for the smell."

Harry looked back down at the beast at his feet. _An ogre?_ Harry wondered. _Is an ogre so much worse than a troll_? The professors surely thought so. Harry turned back to Hermione to see if she made sense of it, but she appeared lost in thought and as confused as he was.

"Headmaster," Professor Snape made his entrance known.

At first glance, Snape looked like he had just wrestled Hagrid to submission. He was sweating, and his black robe was disheveled, with a long strip missing at the bottom. On closer inspection, Harry saw glimpses of a jagged wound bleeding through a torn opening in Snape's pant leg. When Snape limped closer to Dumbledore, Harry briefly got a clear look. He was positive it was a large bite mark.

"The other has been taken care of," Snape told Dumbledore.

"An ogre as well?" Filus asked.

"It was. Kettleburn…" Snape started

"Perhaps this discussion could wait until later," McGonagall said, motioning toward the children.

"Yes, quite right," Dumbledore agreed. He smiled and looked to the first years. "There are more important matters at hand." Dumbledore vanished away the remains covering Ron's robes. "First, I believe points are in order."

"I suppose ten points each," McGonagall announced reluctantly, "for…" She was at a loss to describe why the four Gryffindors had won the points. She didn't really want to give them out.

"Dumb luck?" Snape sarcastically offered. It was clear he was not pleased with the students' perceived reckless behavior.

"Ten points each for bravery in the face of adversity," McGonagall decided. Her loyalty to her Gryffindors would not allow Snape snide attitude to go unchallenged.

Harry adjusted his position in Hermione's grasp, and groaned. In the struggle against the ogre, it appeared that desk had hit he ribs harder than he thought. Hermione was the first to notice his pain.

"You're hurt," she said.

"I got knocked around a bit," Harry waved it off.

"All the same, it's a trip to Madam Pomfrey with you," McGongall told Harry. "I trust you can find your way to the Hospital Wing without further incident?'

The students were barred from the Defense room and sent on their way. Following his friends to the Grand Staircase, Harry made to split from them and travel to the Hospital Wing on his own. Hermione, however, chose to accompany Harry, leaving only Neville to Ron's incessant complaints over missing dinner.

Harry and Hermione continued to the east wing, reaching a pair of double doors neither had entered through before. The room was long and high ceilinged. To their left and right there were twelve beds, divided in two rows, each bed separated by partition from the next. It was silent, eerie and overly white. A shiver ran up Harry's spine as his shoes squeaked across the shiny marble floors. It was so _clean_, too sterile, reminding Harry all too well of his Aunt Petunia's immaculately kept living room. The faint smell of antiseptic only added to his uneasiness.

"Oh dear," a middle aged matron spoke, "injuries from the trolls, no doubt. Well come on, let's have a look at you."

The woman was Madam Poppy Pomfrey. This was the first Harry would be meeting with her personally, but he had seen her at meals and she had attended both of his Quidditch matches in case of mishaps. Her attention first moved to Hermione. She drew her wand and began running it across the young witch, who began to protest.

"I'm fine," Hermione explained.

"That's for me to decide dear," Pomfrey said while continuing to running her wand over Hermione. "Now let me finish my diagnostic." When she was through, she peered at her wand for a moment, both frustrated and surprised with the lack of results. "You're fine."

"It's Harry," Hermione said. Harry glared at her for her betrayal. "He hurt his side…"

"Yes, yes," Pomfrey cut Hermione off, "of course it's Mr. Potter. Just like your father no doubt. Really, I'm surprised he made it without visiting me this long. What dangerous stunt found you here, hm?"

Madam Pomfrey didn't wait for Harry to answer before she repeated the same spell she had performed on Hermione.

"I got hit," Harry said. "The ogre caught me with a desk."

"Merlin save us, there's another Potter on the loose," Madam Pomfrey mumbled, yet there was a brief smile that disappeared before she spoke to Harry again. "Troll dear, not ogre, there's a difference you know. Thought you would take it on by yourselves did you? Well, didn't work out so well, now did it?"

"It was an ogre," Hermione defended Harry. "Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Flitwick identified as such… Harry killed it."

Madam Pomfrey paused in her work and looked to Harry wide-eyed.

"Y-you got it, P-potter?" Quirrell's disembodied voiced carried through a white partition screen.

"Professor Quirrell?" Harry asked. "How are you?"

"I'll be fine," the professor said. "All healed up."

"You're fine when I say you're fine," Pomfrey reminded the professor. "Until then, you'll continue taking Replenishing Potions and stay put." Turning back to the students, she added, "The fool tried to make his way from the Great Hall all on his own; passed out from blood loss somewhere along the way. Mr. Filch only dragged him in a few moments ago. He'd probably be dead by now if Mr. Filch hadn't.'

"You just have some minor bruising," She told Harry, finishing her scan. "I should make you stay the night, teach you to be more careful, but I won't. It's late, it's been a dangerous night, and someone should escort this young lady back to the dorms. If you think you can handle the task, I'll just give you a draught and a warning."

Madam Pomfrey left to retrieve Harry's medicine from the storage cabinets, giving Harry the opportunity to check on Professor Quirrell. The Defense professor was under covers and dressed in a hospital sleeping gown. He seemed well enough save for his bandage wrapped head, hardly as close to death as Madam Pomfrey had made it sound.

Quirrell prompted Harry to describe the events of the night, and was floored by the tale.

"Oh my, how did you ever f-find yourself alone with the ogre in my classroom?" Quirrell asked Hermione.

"I don't know, sir." Hermione said. "One moment I was searching for my bag, then the next, minutes have passed and there's Harry and an ogre. Everything's just blank between."

"Blank?" Quirrell repeated. "Well, thankfully you're both alright. Ogre's loose in the castle, how t-terrif-f-fying."

"Please sir," Harry began to ask a question nagging at him for some time now, "I've been wondering. It seems trolls were enough reason to bar the Great Hall; are ogres so much worse?"

"Trolls and ogres belong to a similar subset of magical creatures," Quirrell answered. "They're alike in many ways, approximate size, strength and so forth. They both have their own form of resistance to s-spellfire as well. The difference, beyond habitat and physical features, lies in behavior. Trolls, no matter the subspecies, are brutish but trainable. They're h-hunters by nature, but they possess patience and just enough intelligence wizards can make use of them as bodyguards, wardens and the like. Ogres aren't nearly as manageable. They're savage k-killers, and possess a blood thrust that can't be reasoned with."

'P-poor Professor Kettleburn got the worst of it. Madam Pomfrey shipped him off to Saint Mungo's for treatment. Being ogres and not trolls, it makes more sense now. He must have mixed the two and not been prepared. They got to him first. I was nearby and heard his cry of warning. I did what I could for him you know, but they g-got me before I could get a good look. After that, I thought the best course of action was to alert the staff."

"St. Mungo's?" Harry asked for clarification. He had never heard of it.

"Sorry Mr. Potter," Quirrell apologized. "I forget you were raised by Muggles. St. Mungo's is a wizarding hospital. I'll tell you, I'd rather be here than there. Our Madam Pomfrey can cure just about anything. If she's sent Kettleburn to St. Mungo's, you know it's s-serious."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: This was a fun one for me. I really enjoyed the Egyptian magical history portion. I took some rather large liberties on some actually history and I have a larger magical version of world history that goes with it floating around in my head. I may use bits of it down the line, as long as readers seem to like it.

I actually finished this one before Chapter Ten. Originally, they were the same 7000+ word chapter, but I kept rethinking what I wanted to include about the first game, and decided to give the play-by-play a shot. So, Halloween has its own chapter now.

**Next Chapter:** More transpired on Halloween than Harry first realized.


	12. Chapter Twelve: Thieves Among Us

**Chapter 12: Chapter Twelve: Thieves Among Us**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the franchise of Harry Potter. The world and characters used in this story belongs to J.K. Rowling. Material has been altered to suit the needs of this fanfiction.

**Warning:** This story is rated M for strong language and graphic violence.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twelve:<strong>

**Thieves Among Us **

**...**

**The Great Hall, 1 November 1991**

When Harry and Neville came down to the Great Hall they could hear noisy conversations and students running about, but once they entered, the hall quieted and they were greeted with hushed whispers. Harry had become accustom to the occasional stare from students wanting a glimpse of the Boy Who Lived, but this was more, even more than looks he received at the Welcoming Feast. Students from all four houses sent suspicious and envious glances. A group of Ravenclaws circling around the far end of their table froze at the sight of them, watching the boys with something akin to infatuation until they sat for breakfast.

Taking a seat next to Hermione, Harry asked her, "What's going on?"

"They know," Hermione said, sending a glare to Ron.

"Hell yeah they know," the redhead responded. "The whole school should know. We fought a troll!"

_So, Ron couldn't keep quiet_, Harry put together. He didn't bother correcting that it was an _ogre_, not a troll they faced.

Truthfully it didn't matter if Ron decided to talk. It wasn't like they broke school rules this time. The other students were bound to find out something eventually. So, the story might as well come from someone who was actually there. Harry could handle a few extra stares as he walked to class or ate a meal, as long as the story didn't get out of hand.

A sigh from further down the Gryffindor table drew Harry's notice to a brunette third year named Patricia Stimpson. She had a dreamy gaze this morning as she batted her eyes at him amorously.

_Well, that could be trouble_, Harry thought, peering beyond Patricia to her boyfriend, Kenneth Towler. Kenneth was less than pleased with his girlfriend, pulling on her robes for attention. The last thing Harry needed was Kenneth accusing him of stealing his girlfriend. It was only since Harry's second Quidditch win of the season that he and Kenneth were finally getting along.

Kenneth Towler was the Gryffindor's Seeker replaced by Harry due to injury. For one glorious week Kenneth had walked the halls proudly as the newly chosen Seeker. One week, and then a concussion ended his career. After Kenneth healed, He thought he'd regain his spot on the team. But this was after Harry's fantastic win against Slytherin. Oliver was in the tough situation of choosing between the two Seekers. Fortunately for Oliver and rather bad luck for Kenneth, the decision was made by a note from Kenneth's mother. The magical letter, known as a Howler, repeated his mother's message loudly in a shrill voice for the whole student body to hear. It appeared Kenneth never had the forethought to ask permission to play the 'deadly game', as Mrs. Towler put it, and she only found out about his participation when the school notified her of his accident from practice. When she found out he wanted his spot back, she didn't take it well.

_At least she was nice enough to wait until his head was healed before embarrassing him in front of the whole school_, Harry thought.

The verbal lashing hadn't sat well with the third year. Harry never outright heard the other boy accuse him of stealing his spot, but Kenneth sent more than one angry look his way over the following weeks. It took defeating Ravenclaw for Kenneth to give up the blatant animosity. Hopefully Patricia's glances wouldn't turn into another thing for Kenneth to hold against Harry.

Harry felt a hand rest firmly on his shoulder.

"Is what Weasley saying true?" Cormac McLaggen asked Harry.

Harry turned around to face McLaggen, noting a congregation of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs waiting for his answer, ignoring the incoming owl mail.

"Depends," Harry began, giving Ron a furtive squint. "What did he say?" He knew Ron had the tendency to exaggerate.

"You went and hunted the troll down," Lee Jordan filled in. It was the story on everyone's mind.

"Is it true you transfigured all the desks into a herd of Wildebeests and trampled it to death?" Megan Jones, a first year Hufflepuff blurted out. Her faced burned red when she realized what she'd done. Based on the head nods from the other Hufflepuffs around her, that was the rumor to reach them and they wanted to know as well. She didn't look away, in spite of her embarrassment.

Harry whipped his head around to Ron. _Wildebeests, really Ron?_

Ron shook his head and shrugged his shoulders at Harry. He was trying to hold in a laugh as he was as bewildered by the question as Harry. Apparently the Hogwarts rumor mill had a mind of its own and the story mutated far beyond simple exaggeration without Ron's help.

"We went looking for Hermione," Harry finally spoke, focusing on Lee's question. "Everything else just happened in the process…uh… no wildebeests." He felt more comfortable speaking with the third year and ignoring the others; Lee was friends with Fred and George. Still, Harry tried to be careful with his words.

"You in on that too?" Cormac directed his question to Neville. Seeing the shy boy nod the affirmative, he added, "Good on you. Nearly won back all those points you lost. Right _Gryffindor_, it was. Would've done the same myself, if they didn't lock us in."

Neville smiled at the compliment. Outside of his first year friends and Herbology, he didn't get many of those. Especially since the upper years started shunning him for the point deficit he caused in September. Neville was encouraged by Harry to recap the story to the other Gryffindors. His confidence could use the attention, so the other three 'troll killers' didn't step in as he stumbled through the retelling.

Harry prepared to return to his meal, but Seamus waved to signal trouble coming their way. It was strange to witness. It had been a couple months now since Harry began his studies at Hogwarts, but this was the first he'd seen a Slytherin this side of the Great Hall. Watching Draco Malfoy approach, Harry already knew Draco was heading over to see him. Give his past track record, Draco should have been livid finding Harry once again in the spotlight. However, the Slytherin was far too cheerful this morning with newspaper held casually under his arm and a slight jaunt to his step. Checking to gauge Hermione's reaction, it was clear she was on guard as well.

"Snakes slither on the other side of hall," the boisterous second year, Cormac McLaggen told the silver eyed boy.

Draco replied with false sweetness, "I was just on my way. First I wished to congratulate Potter on a job well done." Facing Harry, he sneered. "Quite the busy night, wasn't it?"

"What you playing at, Malfoy?" Dean Thomas spoke up.

Draco ignored Dean and continued, "So much to celebrate last night; Halloween, the anniversary of the Dark Lord's demise, and the Boy Who Lived bags his first troll." Draco removed the newspaper from under his arm, tossed on top of Harry's uneaten breakfast, and began to walk away. "Oh, and my personal favorite, hot off the presses… well, I'll let you see for yourself. I'd hate to ruin the surprise." With the seed planted, Draco walked away.

Hermione beat Harry to the paper and began reading the front page of the Daily Prophet. Not a paragraph into the lead story, her eyes widened and she grimaced before looking back up to Harry. Her eyes furrowed with worry as she continued reading quietly.

"What's it?" Lavender asked her.

"I don't know if I should," Hermione started, but with another look to Harry she explained, "There was an accident, a fire last night in Devon. The Lovegood's home…"

"Luna Lovegood," Harry urgently asked, "those Lovegoods? Is she…" _dead_.

"No, no, not her," Hermione said, searching the article again. "She was with her father somewhere in Wiltshire. But her mother, and her grandmother…Perpetua Catchlove, that's her grandmother, died in the fire. Her mother, Greta, they took her to St. Mungo's Hospital but she didn't survive the night."

Harry stood up, and balled his fists. Draco was across the room now, surrounded by his friends. But he wasn't talking with them; he was looking straight at Harry and smirking. Harry knew what Draco wanted to imply; somehow or another it was Lord Malfoy who orchestrated the fire. Draco wanted Harry to know it was no accident but a message that the Malfoys were untouchable. Was it true? Could Lord Malfoy, someone who Harry respected, do something so evil? Harry didn't think Draco was above taking credit for an accident if he saw gain from the claim. Then again, was such a coincidence possible? Twice Draco had warned Harry that Lord Malfoy would enact his revenge on the Lovegoods.

"Anything else?" Harry asked Hermione to distract from his own confusion and rage.

"The rest is mostly about their lives," Hermione went on. "Greta Lovegood, better known as Greta Catchlove, was an author, and Luna's grandmother invented something called a Lunascope while she was still just a Hogwarts student. At the end of the article, the Prophet questions whether Mr. Lovegood will continue to run his tabloid."

From across the Great Hall, Blaise Zabini produced another Daily Prophet, which Draco waved around while laughing. His eyes once again fell to Harry's, and his laughter turned to a cruel smirk. Draco tossed the newspaper onto his plate and drew his wand. Casting a spell, the paper burst into flames, quickly dissolving to ashes. Laughter again broke out across the Slytherin first years.

Harry felt his blood boil at the sight. Even if Draco's claims were false, even if Draco wasn't truly the twistedly proud son of a murderer, the way he mocked the death of his perceived enemies was worse than wrong. All Harry wanted to do was wipe the smirk of his prissy pasty face. And before Harry realized he'd moved, he found himself headed for the Slytherin table.

At least the blonde bastard had the decency to look fearful now that Harry was on the move. Rounding the Hufflepuff table, Harry heard a muttering of "Get'em Potter" that only served to fuel his righteous anger. Draco meanwhile, put his two body guards, Crabbe and Goyle, between himself and the approaching storm of fury marked with a lightning bolt scar. But Harry didn't make as far as the Ravenclaw table before he was lifted from his waist and carried from the room.

Sat down outside the Great Hall, Harry felt a hand gentle take one of his own and walk him further from the gathered students. They travelled downward, not to the dungeons, but toward the basement until he stood in front of a painting of a bowl of fruit.

"Harry," Tonks's softly spoken voice grabbed at his attention. "Harry look at me."

Staring at her light purple eyes, Harry settled from his surge of adrenaline.

"You're right scary when you're mad," she said. "Talk to me. Tell me what's going on."

"Draco… the Lovegoods…" Harry managed to say, while gesturing with his hand to fill in all the things he didn't know how to express.

"Draco's dad had the Lovegoods killed in retribution for the articles published in the Quibbler, and now Draco's bragging about it," Tonks summarized. Her hair changed from green to spiky electric blue.

Harry's eyes widened, not due to her color change, but to her certainty of a secret he thought no one else knew.

"You know?" Harry asked in surprise.

"I imagine a few wizards know," Tonks answered honestly. "Anyone following along with the Quibbler's investigation has a pretty clear picture of what happened with the Lovegoods. The bit about Draco isn't hard to figure out. He's an idiot, so of course he's bragging about the whole thing.'

"You didn't happen to hear him come right out and say Lord Malfoy killed him, did you?" Tonks added with a hint of hope.

"No," Harry admitted. "He told me months ago that Lord Malfoy would get revenge on the Lovegoods. Then this morning he was gloating about it. He wants me to know what his family is capable of, but he won't incriminate himself, not really anyway."

"You were pretty pissed," Tonks noted. "You close to the Lovegoods?"

"Met their daughter once," Harry said. Tonks did a little suggestive eyebrow dance that earned her a glare. "She was helpful and didn't stare at me like everyone else in the wizarding world did. But I think I'm angriest at Lord Malfoy.'

"He helped me too. He looked out for me, and I trusted him. All this time I told myself that Draco was just a spoiled brat, jealous of anyone who stole the attention of his father…and he is that, but Lord Malfoy is something worse. I don't know, maybe Draco is something worse too. Did you see the glee in his eye all because someone died?"

"I get it Harry," Tonks said. Harry could hear her sincerity. "I know what it's like to believe in someone so strongly and then to have that faith torn apart. It isn't easy, but you have to keep your head. You can't go off blindly cursing at your enemies."

Harry felt shame from his outburst in the hall. His eyes were half-focused on a spot on the floor when he nodded his head so she knew he understood. Tonks touched his chin and guided his eyes back to her own again. Her hair, now jet black as his, had fallen around her face, stretching in length, hanging to her shoulders. The change caused Harry to take in her other features. Her eyes were a deep brown. Her skin was paler than before, her body a bit leaner and perhaps shorter. A moment passed before it dawned on Harry this was her real form. The brightly colored hair and shifting features were all gone, leaving behind her true self.

"You still have people you can depend on," she told him, and then hugged him tightly. Harry hugged back just as fiercely.

When he finally released her, he was left with one question. "What happens now?"

"The Daily Prophet seems to have drawn conclusions and given its verdict," Tonks said in frustration, her hair shortening again and taking on a red hue, "They claim Mrs. Lovegood was tinkering with magical experiments at home when one went wild and set the fire. But that doesn't mean the Aurors are done. There will be an investigation. Maybe Mr. Lovegood will have something to help. The paper says he was in Wiltshire last night. Malfoy Apothecary has land in Bradford-on-Avon; that's in Wiltshire. It would make sense he was snooping around there.'

"Lord Malfoy has money and friends. He'll cover his tracks like he always does, but he'll slip up, if not this time then the next. Eventually he'll make a move he can't back out of, and the Aurors will catch him. If he's still loose in a couple years, I'll do it myself."

"You're going after Lord Malfoy?" Harry asked. He was torn between being glad and fearing Tonks could share Mrs. Lovegood's fate.

"When I'm an Auror, I will," Tonks puffed her chest out a little at the statement. "I've been following the Quibbler and anything to do with Lord Malfoy for over a year now. Until then though, keep your head down. Don't do anything you'll regret like cursing Draco in the middle of the Great Hall.'

"I doubt I'd ever regret that," Harry said.

"Fine, don't do anything I'd regret you doing," Tonks amended. Checking her watch, Tonks changed the subject. "We're going to miss breakfast upstairs. Want to grab something from the kitchens? I can show you the secret entrance."

"Sure," Harry said, now smiling thanks to Tonks. He turned to face the painting.

"Great," Tonks said happily. "All you have to do is…" Tonks stopped talking as she watched Harry tickle the pear in the painting. It wiggled and then frame and all moved aside to show the Hogwarts kitchen. "How'd you know? I didn't figure it out until fourth year."

"Uh…" Harry's mind raced to supply answer that didn't contain the words 'Sirius' or 'Black'. "I'm friends with the Weasley twins and their little brother has a bottomless pit for a stomach."

Knowing the twins well enough, Tonks easily accepted that as an answer. The twins were bound to know all sorts of secrets from the trouble they got up to. Meanwhile Harry felt guilty for lying to Tonks. After the speech she just gave, he really did feel he could depend on her, but she hated Sirius. She wanted to be an Auror too. Could he risk Sirius's fate by telling her the truth? No, no matter how close he got to anyone else, he would never be able to tell them about Sirius Black.

All thoughts of guilt were abandoned once they entered the kitchen. The kitchen was impressive in itself. Rows of stoves, preparation tables, ovens and sinks filled a brightly lit underground, the length of which equaled to that of the Great Hall. And at every station there was a small naked person busily preparing food.

One of the small men looked up and noticed Harry and Tonks. He quickly rushed to them, tapping others on his way; a signal to join him. Six of this magical creatures, for on close inspection they were obviously not human, in all gathered around the two hungry students.

Harry mentally compared them to goblins, the only humanoid magical species he had previously encountered. But these beings were even shorter than goblins, the tallest of the six nearby coming up only to his shoulder. And their features were more bulbous, where the goblins' were stretched. Though all were lean, they each had stubby noses and digits; even their large ears were rounded compared to the pointed ears of the goblins. _And the goblins wore clothes, _Harry added as an afterthought. None of these creatures wore a stitch, though they didn't appear to possess any indecent bits one would expect to see on a naked person.

"How may we help you?" ask the being who Harry guessed, judging by its wrinkles, was eldest of the group. The others rocked on their heels anxiously waiting for an answer.

"We were hoping to grab a bite before class," Tonks answered, obviously more familiar with the creatures.

The eldest signaled two of the group to rush off. The others guided Harry and Tonks to a preparation table and vanished the table clean of mess, before summoning two stools for the students to sit on. Once Harry and Tonks took their seats, the other four hurried off to help the others.

"Hobby-elves," Tonks said, pulling Harry's attention from the naked begins. "They're called hobby-elves. All the wealthier families own a hobby-elf or two for cleaning and such. Hogwarts has a whole fleet of them for cooking, laundry and keeping the castle in order."

"Owned?" Harry asked.

"Your breakfast," the eldest house-elf interrupted.

Two hobby-elves on either side of him twiddled their figures, magically floating matching glasses of pumpkin juice and two plates of ham and eggs.

"Thanks," Tonks replied without taking her eyes off the food in front of her.

"Looks great," Harry awkwardly added.

"Master and miss are too kind," the hobby-elf said, bowing his head. The others gave each other toothy smiles at a job well-done, before rushing off back to their chores.

"They really like their jobs," Tonks laughed at how quickly the elves moved to find another task to complete. "I've had one get mad at me down here for taking dish to the sink instead of leaving it for him to clean."

Harry felt uneasy about the whole idea. The way the hobby-elves worked behind the scenes, with so many tasks, reminded him of his own time spent with the Dursleys. Could anyone, even from another species, actually find pleasure in servitude? Maybe some wizards were nice to their hobby-elves, but what about others? Were there families like the Dursleys in the wizarding world? A picture of Draco ordering around a hobby-elf popped into his mind. Harry couldn't envision a smile upon that imaginary elf's face.

* * *

><p><strong>The Forbidden Forrest, 1 November 1991<strong>

The sun was all but a glow across the bottom of the western sky, and in the castle students were sitting down for dinner. After his episode during breakfast, it was no trouble for Harry to come up with an acceptable excuse to beg off the evening meal. He claimed his anger at Draco was still too great to sit across from him for an entire hour without doing something rash, stupid and overly Gryffindor in nature. In truth, Tonks had calmed him down and gotten his head on straight. He wouldn't play Draco's game, and Draco was waiting for Harry to swing first. No, Harry skipped dinner to see Sirius. He couldn't wait for Saturday and the hours of opportunity the weekend provided. Too much had happened in the last 24 hours to let one more day pass.

Upon Black Dog's transformation to the Azkaban escapee, Harry animatedly explained everything he'd seen or heard since Halloween night. Sirius patiently waited for Harry to finish, proud of what Harry accomplished, proud of Tonks for the way she was there for Harry when he couldn't be, and deadly afraid for his godson's life.

"Hagrid's been chatting with Dumbledore," Sirius said once Harry finished. "Hagrid will be taking over Kettleburn's classes for a few days. Dumbledore had him deal with the other ogre they caught as well.'

"It seems they were expecting the trolls; had a plan for them. Dumbledore called it a mix up. He told Hagrid, Kettleburn confused the species. Hagrid bought the lie, but its clear Dumbledore doesn't believe that for an instant."

"Quirrell claimed there were trolls in the dungeons," Harry remembered, "but the one already made it to the second floor by the time we got to Hermione. You think they were meant for the 3rd floor with Fang?"

"Most definitely," Sirius agreed. "They were never in the dungeons. More likely, Kettleburn and Quirrell were to store them in one of the unused rooms blocked off on the 3rd floor, until Dumbledore could move them into place. Trolls make excellent guards, and it seems Kettleburn fetched them for that purpose. I'm guessing someone didn't want trolls added to the staff's security measures. Using ogres, I'd wager they planned to cause a serous distraction… if not worse. I think someone went for whatever Dumbledore is keeping hidden. Luckily, they failed; Dumbledore said as much. He also hinted there are other precautions in place."

Harry sat in silence as he thought it over.

"Do you think it's someone in the castle?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Sirius answered. He stepped away from Harry a few paces. This was going to turn into another lesson. "Work it out Harry. Who do you think has the best motive and opportunity?"

"It's someone in the castle," Harry repeated. Sirius nodded for him to continue. "It has to be someone who knew about Kettleburn's trolls…"

"Ordered in from outside the castle," Sirius added. "Trained trolls cost a fair bit of money."

"Then ogres probably do too," Harry reasoned. Again, Sirius nodded. "So it has to be someone with money enough to afford them, and they have to know someone on the outside to make the switch."

Harry's mind immediately travelled back to the Prophet's front page. Lucius Malfoy could get things done.

"The Malfoys have the power," Harry told Sirius. "Lord Malfoy has money and knows important people…but on castle grounds, Draco would be the one to go for the corridor. He could have skipped dinner as to not get trapped in the Great Hall, but I don't think he would risk running into the ogres. And he certainly wouldn't have stood a chance against Fang. That thing would have ripped him apart…Snape!"

"Snape?" Sirius asked.

"Snape was bit!" Harry exclaimed. "He came in after the other professors. He claimed he took care of the other ogre, but his pants were ripped."

"That could have been the ogre," Sirius played devil's advocate. "They tend to eat anything that moves."

"But they didn't smash him up first," Harry argued. "That sphinx it was eating was all mushed up, and it tried to flatten us, not bite us."

Harry thought back to the previous night, going over everything that happened, trying to remember anything he had forgotten. The boys were outside the Great Hall. Quirrell rushed by them and announced there were trolls in the dungeons. Quirrell had trouble saying that. At the time Harry attributed it to the man's stutter, but now it was clear he had stopped himself from mentioning the third floor corridor. The professors didn't want the students to know about their protections; he was covering. From there, Dumbledore told McGonagall to seal the doors. The staff would exit through their adjoined staff room. Then, before the sound was cut off, Dumbledore spoke to Flitwick.

"I don't think Snape was in the Great Hall when Professor Quirrell came in," Harry added.

Sirius moved closer and lowered to eye level with Harry. A dark look shadowed his face.

"What do you mean Harry?"

"He wasn't there," Harry was certain of it. "Headmaster told Professor Flitwick to summon Snape. Snape was somewhere else in the castle. It _was_ Snape."

Sirius stood up and swore under his breath. His expression shifted from anger to worry, and then doubt.

"Maybe," Sirius finally spoke. "I want to agree. I think there's more than a little part of me that _wants_ it to be him. I hate him and I don't trust him, not with you here certainly. At first glance, he's the most likely suspect. But Harry, we have to be careful. Someone is playing a dangerous game. I don't have proof, but I'm sure Hermione was cursed and left for the ogre to find. And with Kettleburn nearly dying last night..."

"It's Snape," Harry insisted. "He tried to kill Hermione because... I don't know; she was in the wrong place? If he failed at…whatever he's trying for, he'll go for it again. We can't let him, right?"

"No we can't," Sirius said. "But if Snape isn't the one who let the ogres in, and we're focused solely on Snape…"

"Then something bad could happen without us seeing it coming," Harry followed his godfather's train of thought. "What do we do?"

"We keep our ears to the ground," Sirius said. "I want to know what's so important Dumbledore's willing to risk the safety of his students. I'll keep to Hagrid. If another creature is added to the corridor, he'll be involved. He's also incapable of staying quiet. He's always eager to talk to professors, students, even the animals when no one else is around. We keep his mind on the subject and see if he has anything to say. I wouldn't mind getting a peek at the corridor either.'

"What if Snape goes for it before we catch him?" Harry wondered. What if they never cross paths?

"Christmas," Sirius answered. "He waited for Halloween to try anything. This time the whole school was focused on the celebration. The feast insured most of the castle's attendance would be in the Great Hall. He won't have an opportunity as good until either the night the students leave or during the holiday when fewer wizards occupy Hogwarts.'

"This would have been so much easier with the Marauders," Sirius admitted in frustration. "We had ways of keeping an eye on the school and on each other."

"I can do it," Harry told Sirius with determination. Sirius raised an eyebrow in question. "Whatever dad used to do, if you know how to watch the school, I can do dad's part."

"Of course you can," Sirius said, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "It isn't about capability. You're a great wizard Harry. It's not the other Marauders I need, it's our stuff. Between Prongs and Moony, we had two of the best minds in our year creating things you've never seen before.'

"We had these mirrors," Sirius began with nostalgia, "small enough to fit in a pocket, but spelled to communicate with one another from anywhere else in Britain. Or our Anti-Burglar Buzzer, it would ring something awful if it was set off, wake half the castle. Hell, I'd settle for just getting my pocketknife back; present from your father, it was. Damned Filch took it from me in sixth year.'

"But there was one item above all the others Harry, Our greatest creation: _the Marauders' Map_. Nothing else like it ever made as far as I know. The map plots out the whole castle, every room, trick step and hidden passage we ever discovered. And the best part was it showed everyone inside the castle too. We could follow a student's steps in real time. There was no one who could hide from us on Hogwarts grounds."

"So we could've watched Snape from a far then," Harry said in understanding. "Can we make another?"

"One of kind I'm afraid," Sirius explained. "I did my fair share in its creation, but without Moony and your father, no, too many secrets lost. You can add that to Wormtail's doing. Little shit of a lookout went rogue on us one night in seventh year, got snatched by Filch. Who knows what that blasted caretaker does with all the junk he acquires, probably burned the thing with glee."

_Who knows?_ Harry thought back to his first Quidditch match. _The twins knew. _He knew too but had kept quiet. He hadn't wanted the pressure from Sirius to retrieve the Marauders' trunk. Now, he probably didn't have a choice.

"There's a trunk in his office," Harry spoke up, "had _Marauders_ written on a tag. The twins saw it last year and planned on robbing it bare first thing this year. Neville's punishment made them think better of it though. You think the Map is there?"

"Are you sure?" Sirius's excitement turned toward manic and conspiratorial. "If he's kept any of it, we have to know for sure. There's danger at Hogwarts and the Map could put a stop to it. Are you sure your friends didn't make a run for it already?"

"They're waiting for the break," Harry was sure. "Their plan to get inside requires them getting caught. If they wait until just before Christmas, they hope everyone in Gryffindor will forget to hold a grudge when they come back from holiday."

"Then you'll have to take it before they get the chance," Sirius said. A familiar smirk grew, one that meant trouble. "Ready to learn something new?"

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts Grounds, 3 November 1991<strong>

Harry and Hermione walked the worn-out dirt path to Hagrid's Hut. They were bundled tightly in their fall robes, hands firmly in their pockets. Hermione ducked her head down to trap her nose under her red and gold scarf, protecting it from the cold. The winds from the Western Black Lake were especially biting this Sunday as they made their way to tea with Hagrid. Harry arranged it the previous day, hoping to meet sooner, but with Kettleburn absent, Hagrid was too busy to make the time before now.

They were greeted by Black Dog first. Barking as he ran up the hill toward the castle, he nearly bowled Hermione over when he reached her. His call signaled Hagrid to their arrival and he ushered them in, quickly sitting them in front of a warm fire. With Black Dog curled at his feet, Harry settled in for tea. Their conversation revolved around Hagrid's plans for Professor Kettleburn's classes until Hagrid mentioned the professor's recovery in St. Mungo's.

"Word got back ta me this mornin'," Hagrid said. "The professor's goin' ta be needin' a few weeks before he's back to health. Dumbledore figures I'll be takin' over 'til the holiday. Nasty business fightin' ogres."

This was the opportunity Harry had been waiting for, and before he could jump on it, Hermione beat him to it.

"How do you think they got inside?" Hermione asked. "Hogwarts is supposed to be the safest place in Britain. Surely they can't just wander in, can they?"

_Perfect_, Harry thought, pleased with Hermione's line of questioning. This tea had been Sirius's idea. Hagrid was a talker, Sirius said. Hopefully with some prompting, he'd reveal more than he should, if not now, then when alone with only Black Dog as company. Sirius had givev only one warning to Harry.

"You'll have to be careful with what you say," Sirius had warned. "If you scare him off, we may not get another chance."

It was Harry's idea to invite Hermione along. Her naturally inquisitive mind and intellect would lead her to ask the important questions as long as Harry was able to steer the conversation where he needed. If she was the one asking, Hagrid wouldn't be so on guard if they blew it and Harry were to try again on his own.

"Nah we brought'em in," Hagrid said as he ate a stale biscuit. "Just didn't think it'd be ogres in the crates."

"You thought they were trolls?" Hermione asked for clarification.

"Of course," Hagrid replied. "Ya can't train an ogre to guard nothin'."

"So they were meant to guard something," Hermione stated. She glanced over to Harry to see if he was on the same page as she was.

"Ah…shouldn't of said tha'," Hagrid said. "Never you mind 'bout tha'. Important thing is ever'one will be alright, once Kettleburn is back again, anyhow."

"Right," Harry added. He needed to stop Hermione from going too far too soon. "Professor Quirrell is feeling better as well; I saw him at breakfast this morning."

Harry reached down to scratch Black dog behind the ear, buying time to think of something else to say.

"I'm excited you're teaching, Hagrid," Harry finally spoke. "You'll be a great professor."

"Ya think so?" Hagrid asked humbly, already forgetting about his slip. "I never taught a day in me life before now."

"You know tons about magical creatures and you great with all the animals," Harry honestly replied. "Hopefully teaching on top of your job as the Gamekeeper won't be too tiring. Who knows, by the time I reach Third Year, you could be the official professor and everything."

"Nah," Hagrid said, blushing at Harry's complement. "I can handle tha' Gamekeeper stuff in me sleep, been doin' it fer years you know. And anyway, I got Black Dog here to give me a hand. Smart pup, yer Black Dog, some days I think he could do it all without me so much as givin' a command."

Hermione gave Harry a sideways glance. The question on her mind was clear: _Your Black Dog?_ It asked. Harry would have to explain later, but right now he was more concerned with the new opening Hagrid gave him. This was by far the most important topic yet.

"And Fang," Harry added. "Fang can help too, right?"

"Fang?" Hermione asked. _Thank you, Hermione_. "What's _Fang_?"

"Hagrid's dog," Harry answered, "his other dog," he quickly amended.

"Right," Hagrid said proudly, "Ol' Fang's been wit' me fer years."

"I don't think I've ever seen another dog around," Hermione said, racking her brain for a memory of another canine on Hogwarts grounds.

"Well of course not," Hagrid said laughing. "Dumbledore had a bit more important task fer 'em this year than just watching chickens."

"On the third corridor, like the trolls?" Hermione asked, putting the pieces together.

The only other dog she had encountered since entering Hogwarts had been the giant three headed dog of the forbidden corridor. This time, Hagrid caught her look to Harry.

"Alright you two," Hagrid said with a stern voice. "Yer knowin' more than ya let on. Out wit it."

_And busted_, Harry decided. It was time to see what Hagrid was willing to share.

"We saw Fang," Harry admitted. "We didn't mean to, but we got twisted around and ended up on the wrong floor."

"He's guarding something for the Headmaster isn't he?" Hermione asked. "The trolls were supposed to do the same."

"You two need to stay away from tha'," Hagrid said. "Ya hear? Tha's dangerous matters yer gettin' into and it's no place fer first years. Dumbledore forbade it fer a reason."

"But the trolls were switched for ogres," Hermione protested. "Aren't you worried someone is attempting to get past your guardians?"

"Nobody's gettin' past Fang but me," Hagrid refuted Hermione's fears. "There's only one way around'em, and if ya think anyone else could figure out it takes a bit o' music…well, it ain't likely."

Black Dog's head rose up from his feigned nap. That was the piece of information they were looking for. Failing his mission at Halloween, Snape or whoever it was needed the key to conquering Fang. That would be their next play.

"Follow the trail and it will lead us to the culprit," Sirius had told Harry before. They were now one step closer. They knew what the thief needed to know.

"It's almost dinner time," Hagrid said, standing up abruptly. "I think it's best if ya start headin' back to the castle now."

The dismissal was clear. He did not want to speak about the corridor again. He ushered the children out of his small home, back into the cold evening air. Black Dog followed them out.

"Don't be off talkin' about this with the other kids," he pleaded with Harry. "I'm lookin' out fer ya, honest. This isn't fer students."

"But Hagrid," Hermione whined. "Fang…"

"All ya need ta know is Fang's on business fer Albus Dumbledore," Hagrid said with finality. "Tha's good 'nough fer me; it's good 'nough fer you."

The hut door shut firmly, and with the audible click of a lock, the children were back on their way to the castle.

"What did he mean when he said _your dog_?" Hermione asked Harry. She motioned down to the black dog walking beside them.

"Uh," Harry started.

Black Dog gave what appeared to be a canine version of a shrug.

"He's mine," Harry said, "from home. He was a bit of a stray, and I was worried no one would look out for him while I was away."

"So Hagrid took him for you?" Hermione asked in surprise.

"Hagrid brought me my Hogwarts letter," Harry explained. "He said he could use the help this year, and now we know why: Fang is on 'business for Dumbledore'." Harry added air quotes with his fingers.

A vague memory snapped to the surface…_on business fer Albus Dumbledore. _When did Hagrid say it before? "_Rubeus Hagrid, on business fer Albus Dumbledore, an' Harry James Potter to visit the vault his parents left'em." _

"Gringotts," Harry blurted out. Hermione stopped walking to figure out what Harry was talking about. Black Dog got in front of him to stop Harry as well. "When Hagrid took me to the bank to retrieve money, he picked up a package from another vault." Harry was speaking to Black Dog, not that Hermione could tell. "He told the goblins he was on business for the Headmaster."

"When Harry?" Hermione asked him.

"When?" Harry asked back. What did it matter? "This summer, right after my birthday Hagrid came and took me to Diagon Alley."

"Just after the 31st?" she clarified.

"The day after," Harry told her, "that morning."

"There was a story in the Prophet," Hermione explained. "Everyone on the train was talking about it. They said someone broke into Gringotts. They said it had never been done before."

"Dumbledore must've moved it before the thief got there," Harry followed along. "Whatever that package was, it's what's hidden beyond the forbidden corridor."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: And that's the chapter. Hopefully the new developments are keeping the old story fresh. Let me know your opinion one way or the other.

The chapter title is a nod to the attempted theft of the stone, the mentioned attempt from the summer, the Twin's plan for Marauder trunk, and Sirius's plan to take it first.

You'll notice some new names for Luna's family members, plus an additional death of her grandmother. Both characters, under their maiden names are JK Rowling created. Neither is related to her in cannon, but the Lunascope connection made me want to use them as her kin.

House-elves are called hobby-elves in this story. Howarts house-elves work in a castle; I imagine stores and factories using the elves as well. "Hobby-elf" is a name that suits their more diversion occupation. Plus "hobby-elf" is a term closer to "hob", which is pretty much what these little suckers are.

I decided to just make hobby-elves naked; it simplifies things, and makes sense to me. They aren't human, so why should they have the same sort of sensibilities as humans do? Also, purebloods don't view hobby-elves as equals or anything close to human, so I could see them not worrying about covering their elves either. Mostly, I have for them running around naked due to my definition of "clothes". If you wear it, then it's clothes. What's the difference between a bed sheet and a cape other than what they're used for? Give them a towel to wear or a sock to hold, it's all clothes to me.

**Next Chapter:** Harry plans to go for the Map under the Weasley twins' identical noses, but plans don't always work out.


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Only the Unlucky

**Chapter 13: Chapter Thirteen: Only the Unlucky**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the franchise of Harry Potter. The world and characters used in this story belongs to J.K. Rowling. Material has been altered to suit the needs of this fanfiction.

**Warning:** This story is rated M for strong language and graphic violence.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirteen:<strong>

**Only the Unlucky**

**...**

**Hogwarts Suspension Bridge****, 30 November 1991**

The clopping of footfall slapped against the creaking wooden beams of the Suspension Bridge; labored breath huffed light mist into the dim night sky. Reflecting in the Black Lake, the waning crescent moon provided the only light for navigation as Harry Potter sprinted east to reach the Stonebridge Tower.

The glow of a lantern illuminated an arched castle window a couple floors above him. The lantern light hung there, its wielder perhaps choosing to look outside. Harry ducked below the railing of the bridge and hid.

_How did everything go so wrong? _Harry wondered. _I have to get to Sirius; he'll know what to do. _But reaching Sirius would not be easy. He was on the wrong side of the castle, not that his situation provided him with any better option.

Not long after the lantern took roost in the window, light moved again, this time further into the castle interior. Taking his chance, Harry ran once more. Reaching the Stonebridge Tower, he slowed his pace to careful steps in case he came upon another staff member on patrol. It was unlikely given it was long past midnight, but he could not risk being heard. He slipped through the halls silently and exited to the grounds at the first opportunity.

He was on the east side of the castle now. Ahead of him north was Gryffindor Tower. His dorm mates were most likely asleep by now. They surely were aware of his absence after curfew. What would he tell them in the morning when they asked his whereabouts?

To limit the likelihood of being seen from a window, he stuck close to the castle walls until he could make out the shadowy outline of Hagrid's hut in the distance. Left with no other choice, he again ran as fast as he could, hoping his speed would carry him to Sirius before being spotted by another party. Then, only meters from the hut, he slowed and took a wide circle around the back, through the sparse pickings of the vegetable garden, to the hut's rear window.

Harry moved a small crate below the window so he'd be tall enough to peer inside. Squinting to fight through the poor lighting within, Harry finally spotted the rise and fall of breathing from a curled up ball of blackness at the foot a Hagrid's large winged back chair. He lightly tapped on the glass of the window, hoping to create just enough sound for Black Dog's canine hearing to detect. The dog didn't wake.

"Alohomora," Harry whispered, directing his wand tip to the window's latch.

Harry pried the unlocked window open and hissed for Black Dog's attention. Failing once more, Harry stepped down from his crate and searched for anything he could use to signal his godfather. Finding a couple pebbles, Harry returned to the crate and his window.

He threw the first, hitting Black Dog somewhere in the body. The exact location was hard to determine due to the darkness of night. Unsure if it landed with enough force to stir the dog, Harry threw the next soon after the first, but a bit harder. Mid throw, however, Black Dog woke, lifting his head just in time for the second rock to connect with his forehead. Black Dog shook and emitted a low growl until he saw his godson waving. Quickly setting aside his confusion, he motioned with his head for Harry to step away, and then took a running leap out the open window. Black Dog stood up on his back legs and them shifted into the form of Sirius Black.

"Sirius!" Harry harshly whispered, standing tall on his toes in attempt to look back through the open window. "What if Hagrid sees?"

"Hagrid's having another late night at the Hog's Head," Sirius spoke. He put a hand on the boy's shoulder to calm him. "We'll hear him coming long before he can hear us. Of course, that's only if he doesn't pass out at the poker table again.'

"Now tell me what's wrong, Harry?" Sirius was growing nervous by Harry's frightened expression. Harry had only skipped curfew for his duel against Draco. It would take something of grave importance for him to chance it once more.

"Everything's gone to hell," Harry answered.

"What do you mean?" Sirius asked, not following. "What happened?"

"It's the twins," Harry explained in frustration. "They changed their minds."

"They're going for Filch's office sooner than we thought," Sirius drew to conclusion.

"Tomorrow night," Harry said. Looking around in the darkness, remembering it was already sometime after one in the morning; he amended, "Later _today, _after the game against Hufflepuff."

"Damn," Sirius didn't know what else to say. They had a plan. Harry was nearly ready, but they needed more time.

"I tried for it," Harry admitted. "Things didn't work out like we hoped."

"What did you do," Sirius asked Harry. "Tell me exactly."

* * *

><p><strong>Gryffindor Tower<strong>**, 29 November 1991**

Along with the other members of the Quidditch team, Harry dragged his weary body through the hidden doorway to the Gryffindor common room. Late in the evening now, the team had just completed their second practice of the day. _Two-a-days_, Captain Oliver Wood cheerfully named their twice scheduled practices held every day for the past week. Tired and sore, Harry didn't care what they were called; he just wanted them to stop. Fortunately it was Friday. The Hufflepuff match was tomorrow, and there would only be a brief warm up before the game.

Oliver made his way up the boys' stairs first, reminding the team to get a good night's rest. The chasers left next, quietly swearing at Oliver's last remark and rubbing their sore spots. Harry started to head for the dorms as well but a hand held him back. The Weasley twins ushered him into a private corner of the common room and huddled near him conspiratorially.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"You want to be kept in the loop right?" the twin wearing Fred's practice jersey asked. It was hard to tell if he was actually Fred; they tended to switch the jerseys around during practice, mostly just to rile Wood. "You know: Filch's office, the trunk…"

"I do," Harry said with interest.

He was surprised they came to him. For the last three weeks, it had been he who had pestered them about their planned theft. Sirius thought it important for Harry to coax as much detail about their plan as he could. If they knew a better way to get the Marauders contraband, then Sirius wanted to know as well.

There wasn't much to it really. Their plan was as simple as they had first described. Filch's office was protected by password. Dumbledore himself put the charms on it, and in Hogwarts, only the Headmaster's office was more difficult to get into if one was not invited. So naturally the twins' plan was to be invited inside. George would allow himself to be caught after curfew, searched and sent to Filch's office. Then Fred would cause enough chaos to draw Filch out, only surrendering after giving a good chase. While Filch was away, George could rob the trunk bare. Already searched once, their hopes rested on George not being searched a second time. They would suffer punishment, but would come away with the bounty. Sirius thought the plan both daring and brilliant in its simplicity.

"We're doing it tomorrow night," The twin, who was most likely George, said. A large grin grew on his face, mirroring his brother's smile.

"Tomorrow," Harry panicked, "what happened to waiting for the holiday?"

"The night before break seemed like the perfect time," Fred said, "but then we got to thinking about it."

"Accidently cursed one another with one of our own jokes this morning," George admitted while absentmindedly adjusting his trousers. "Nothing too alarming, just an uncomfortable enlargement charm gone haywire, but it took the counter curse to cure."

"That's when we realized a flaw in our timing," Fred added. "Counter curses require a wand, you see?"

_No_, Harry didn't see at all. What did that have anything to do with the Marauders trunk? Harry shook his head.

"Two dashing wizards can't use their wands when they're at home under the watchful eye of their overbearing mother and the _Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery_," George explained.

"Meaning we'd be exploring the treasures of pranksters past unarmed," Fred said, "We've enough trouble with our own experiments."

"Can't you just wait for school to start again?" Harry asked.

The twins laughed loudly and it continued for some time until they looked back to Harry's confused expression.

"Oh," George began, "I don't think he was joking," he said to his brother.

"You were serious?" Fred asked Harry.

"You can't expect us to sit on a potential gold mine for a whole holiday without even a peek," George said, perturbed by the suggestion.

"Look," Fred told Harry, "even if we had the patience to wait…"

"Which we don't," George interrupted.

"We'll need all the new material we can get our hands on when school starts back up again," Fred continued.

"We've talked it over and decided that there might be a chance we've miscalculated Gryffindor's overall reaction to our planned adventure," George started, "however _minute_ the possibility actually is."

"Teeny-tiny chance," Fred offered.

"Teensy-weensy," George countered.

"Itty-bitty," Fred threw in.

"Guys," Harry snapped. The uneasiness growing and taking root in his stomach was far too unbearable to appreciate the twins' humor.

"The point is," George jumped back on topic, "if the Gryff majority doesn't forget about our little indiscretion over the break as hoped, we'll be in for some hurt come January."

"Only chance we've got is to prank the living hell out of the rest of the castle to make them love us again," Fred continued his brother's reasoning.

"Mostly the Sytherins," George nodded along.

"Yes," Fred agreed, "especially the Sytherins."

"We've decided tomorrow night is the best option," George said with some finality. "We get into Flich's office and then spend the next two weeks holed up somewhere the rest of Gryffindor won't find us."

"Playing with our new toys the whole while," Fred finished.

This ruined everything. All the practice and studying with Sirius had gone to waste. More importantly, without the trunk, there was no Marauders Map. Sirius would be unable to watch Snape. The school would be left unprotected. Would there be more ogres? Perhaps something worse would happen. Sirius thought Hermione was stunned and left to die at the hands of the ogre. Would Snape try to kill her again?

Vaguely, somewhere off in the recesses of his consciousness, Harry was aware the twins were still talking. At the forefront of his mind, however, Harry battled with indecisiveness. He was sure the twins would get the trunk. Could he convince them to lend him the Map? Doubtful: it was far too useful to just hand away to someone else. Could he take it from them before they knew what they had? He somehow didn't think so. The twins were resourceful, much more so than Filch. Maybe he could explain what he was trying to do, but the twins didn't seem to take the threat of ogres as seriously as he had.

_Oh hell,_ Harry thought as he recognized the inevitable conclusion. _I really have no choice. I'm going for the Map tonight._

His feet carried him to the exit before he realized the twins were not done talking with him.

"Oi Harry," George called, "Where you off to?"

Harry racked his brain for an answer. Truthfully he didn't know. He would have to find a place to hide until after curfew. Then he'd make his move.

"The library," Harry gave the first answer that came to mind. "Need a book. I'm behind on a Potion's essay…Wood's practices and all…"

"Yeah well hurry up," Fred replied. "Curfew's in an hour and you look completely out of it. We can't have our star Seeker completely knackered come game time."

Harry exited the common room and let the Fat Lady painting close behind him, but once in the hall he stopped walking. He had no idea how he would go for the trunk. The first thought that came to mind was to mimic the twins. He knew their plan well. He wasn't capable of the magic they planned to use to gain Filch's attention, but distraction didn't require a specific spell. He also didn't need the temporary Extension Charm they planned to use on George's robe pockets. He wasn't robbing the trunk bare; he only needed the Map. He was short a player if wanted to pull off their plan though.

Harry's first choice would be enlisting Hermione to play the 'Fred' to his 'George'. She was by far the cleverest of his friends; cleverest of the year really. Where Harry exceled at the practically wand casting, Hermione wasn't far behind. She was also leaps and bounds ahead of everyone when it came to theory. _And she does it all without a secret rogue wizard for a tutor, _Harry mentally added. In her shoes, Harry imagined he would not fare much better than Ron, who was more interested in his next meal than homework. _If lunch was an elective, Ron would sign up for it twice_.

But Hermione was out. She would want to know why Harry wanted into Filch's office. Her tenacity wouldn't allow her to give up her dogged pursuit for an answer. Harry couldn't think of a reasonable explanation, outside of telling her about Sirius and the Marauders, that is. That wasn't going to happen, no matter how much he wished he could tell her the truth. Additionally, she_ really_ liked rules. Getting caught breaking them would crush her. After the near-duel with Draco, Harry promised himself he wouldn't let her risk that for him again.

Harry's next thought was to ask Ron. He'd be willing to play along without any explanations at all. He so badly wanted to emulate his brothers; he'd jump at the chance. However, Harry couldn't trust Ron to keep quiet. At the very least, word would get back to the twins, and Harry really didn't want them upset for stealing their idea and running with it.

Neville would never be willing to partner up thanks to the troubles from September. Dean wouldn't go without Seamus, and Seamus shared Ron's inability for subtly and stealth. With no other friends to pick from, Harry had no choice but to do this on his own.

Harry made his way down the castle steps. Reaching the ground floor, he loitered near the Entrance Hall, hoping to draw as little attention as possible as students hurried off to make their last stops before curfew. He made his way through the northeast hallway where Filch's office was located. Spotting it, he continued past it, turning right. In front of him was a large window framed by large red drapes. Next to it was a suit of armor. Squeezing between the two, pulling the drapes over him, Harry was nearly invisible from view in the dark hallway.

Harry was not comfortable hiding so close to Filch's office, but he needed to be close to the door. The twins' plan was out; he'd have to do it Sirius's way. Sirius had planned for Harry to take the Map on his own from the beginning, but there was a good reason he hadn't tried it in the past three weeks. The odds were not in his favor.

Harry held his wand out in front of him. Pleading for his spell to work, he waved the wand and incanted, "_Silencio."_

Nothing appeared to happen, but perhaps something did. The Silencing Charm was colorless and soundless when cast properly. If it worked, then its target should be unable to create any noise at all. Targeting his own person as he did, it would allow him travel without the sounds of footsteps, or even uttering the sounds of breathing. It was risky casting the spell. Once cast properly, he would be unable to verbalize another incantation until the Silencing Charm wore off. Sirius figured it would last a couple hours. He was not sure, as a spell's strength depended on the user's strength and the quality of the casting. Sirius told him when the time came, to cast it an hour or so before he made his move. As the deadline changed, Harry thought better of it and casted it several hours before. Harry had yet to master this spell and could use the practice.

"Bet it didn't work," Harry muttered, checking to see if the spell took hold. Hearing his own voice, he sighed in frustration. Harry added the Silencing Charm to his growing list of spells he'd been taught and yet was unable to cast properly. So far the list consisted of two: _Finite Incantatem_, and now _Silencio_. He'd have to go without.

Harry crouched into his hiding spot, getting comfortable. He'd have to wait for Filch to come and reveal his password, and there was no telling when the man would arrive. Harry had a long day; his body was sore and his mind tired, and waiting wore him down. Eventually sleep over came him. He stayed that way, crouched down, half leaned against a suit of armor, until a hoot from a passing nocturnal owl on hunt startled him awake again.

Harry's body shifted and his head slipped from it position against the armor. His blurry vision cleared to view the empty hallway, now much darker than before. How long had he slept for? Harry shook his head to wake himself up. He couldn't let sleep overtake him again. Hearing the sound of footsteps, Harry chanced a peek around the corner. Filch was at the far end of the hallway, lantern swinging, Mrs. Norris a few steps ahead to lead the way.

_They're heading to his office_, Harry excitedly thought. This was perfect. All he had to do was wait a few more moments, and Filch would say his password. He just had to pray Filch spoke loudly enough to be heard and that Mrs. Norris didn't notice a Gryffindor first year hiding only a few steps away.

"_Brazen Bull_," Filch grunted gruffly_._

_That's the password? What in Merlin's name is a 'Brazen Bull'?_ Harry wondered if he misheard. He gave out a small sigh of relief that he'd be able to carry out this part of the plan without the Silencing Charm; it was a mistake to do so.

"_Meow_," Mrs. Norris alerted Filch.

"What's that?" Filch asked his cat, stopping from entering his office. "You 'ear something?"

Harry could hear the creaky swing of Filch's lantern as the caretaker turned to look back toward the Entrance Hall.

"Whose there?" Filch demanded.

Harry waited with bated breath, hoping Filch would head for the Entrance Hall searching for an intruder and not come around the corner. But his hopes were dashed as he came eye to eye with Mrs. Norris. Not knowing what else to do, Harry leapt up and ran for his life away from Filch toward the West Tower.

The West Tower was home to the Hogwarts Owlery. Sitting atop the highest point of the cliff overlooking the Black Lake north of the Entrance Hall, the tower was separated from the rest of the castle connected only by a long outdoor walkway, which began just up the hall from where he now ran. Harry had yet to visit the tower, but he knew the path gave him access to the outside. Somehow reaching the outdoors felt safer than staying in the castle, a place Harry's childmind considered Filch's nighttime domain.

"I hear you running," Filch yelled. Thankfully Filch's eyes weren't the best, and he had not been able to identify Harry yet.

It was Mrs. Norris that would do him in if he wasn't quick. The cat kept with his pace, meowing as she went to keep her master informed of where they were. Knowing he had no hope of shaking Filch unseen on open ground, Harry turned away from the path leading to the West Tower and headed into the depths of the castle's Central Tower. The cat still gave pursuit, but Filch's hobbled jogging was unable to keep up.

Running through the tower blindly, Harry was brought to a halt by a loud croaking sound. He looked to his right and saw a fat toad sitting near a partially opened door.

"Trevor?" Harry asked the familiar familiar. How did he get all the way out here? Poor Neville could never keep track of him.

Seeing his moment for escape, Harry made to go inside the room just as Mrs. Norris approached him. The feline followed his move, leaping for the opening. Harry then doubled back and slammed the door shut on Filch's cat, trapping her inside.

Hearing Filch's staggering steps, Harry took off for the nearest exit from the tower. He'd have to help Neville find Trevor in the morning to alleviate his guilt for leaving the toad behind. Finally able to take in his surroundings, he realized he'd put himself back on the southeastern side of the castle. He was outside now, and he could see the back wall of the Great Hall in front of him. Not knowing if he could make his way safely through the castle if he entered through the Entrance Hall, he turned around and headed the other way toward the Suspension Bridge, once again at a run.

Harry turned around behind him to look at the Central Tower once more. Filch had yet to try the door he exited through. As he turned to face front again, he saw the large clock face of the Clock Tower in the distance. A quarter past one, it read. He had slept longer than he first imagined. For all his bad luck this night, it had at least held out long enough for him to not be caught sleeping in the hallway.

_Now what?_ Harry wondered. Panic laced adrenaline still flowed through him as he ran. He needed a new plan; he needed Sirius. Harry took off for the Suspension Bridge. Filch knew someone was out of bounds. He'd have to take the long way around if he wanted to go undetected through the night.

* * *

><p><strong>The Forbidden Forest<strong>**, 30 November 1991**

Sirius couldn't help but let out a small chuckle despite the seriousness of the matter.

"I don't care for toads too much, but this Trevor might not be so bad," Sirius remarked.

"Be…" Harry nearly told Sirius to 'be serious'. That never got the reaction he wanted. "How can you make jokes? Fred and George could get the Map. They're clever; even if we tried taking it from them, they could figure it out before we had the chance. They would see us coming… They could see _you_ on the Map!"

Harry shocked himself with the realization. Anyone who used the Map would see everyone else on Hogwarts Grounds, and that included Sirius Black. The Map was not only a potentially powerful tool for protecting the school, but also a potentially dangerous weapon against his godfather. Harry was ashamed of himself. How had it taken him so long to realize this? Had Sirius not seen the risk either?

"Harry," Sirius said, grabbing his godson's attention, "is that what you think, that the Map could reveal me? Surely you don't believe the Marauders would have used the Map if it could be turned against us." Sirius laughed lightly. "Harry, we _created_ the Map. Everything it does, it does it because we made the Map do so. Fear not; I am protected."

"So you name won't appear?" Harry said as he felt an imaginary weight lift off him.

"No," Sirius answered casually. "My name will show," he paused and then smiled once he saw Harry's confusion, "right beside Prongs, I believe."

""You said you're protected," Harry said in frustration. "Now you say aren't."

"We created the Marauder's Map together, each of us using our own enchanted quill. These quills share a special connection with both the Map and with us. It was Moony's idea, you see. In essence, the Map recognizes our quills _as_ us. Where ever our quills are kept, that is where we appear to be on the Map."

"And your quill…" Harry prompted.

"With the Map lost to us, you father and I hid our quills in the Gryffindor Tower as a bit of a prank if ever someone were to use the Map again. As far as Moony and Wormtail go, I can't be sure what they did with their quills."

Harry took comfort in knowing Sirius's secret would be kept no matter whom possessed the Map. However, that did not change their mission. They still needed the Map, and Harry had no idea how to get it.

"What do we do now?" Harry asked.

"We try again tomorrow," Sirius told Harry. "For now, get some sleep. I'll camp out here with you. Filch has surely changed his password again. No reason to chance going back to the castle tonight. Tomorrow, sneak back into the school, make you excuses with your friends and meet me back here before the game. Wear your Quidditch robes."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Well, I understand all the phases of the moon cycle much better. Thanks Harry Potter! Also, my ever-growing map of the school is complete (and completely complicated)… I'll just save that next to my class schedule excel sheet. If all the description about castle layout seemed too distracting from the story, please let me know.

This was another chapter that got so long I decided to split it into two. The split left this chapter as one of the shorter ones I've written, but I think this was the natural stopping point for the chapter. I hope you, the readers, feel the same.

Obviously this chapter's plot deviates even more from the old storyline we all know. Let me know what you think of it.

**Next Chapter:** Harry battles Cedric Diggory for the Snitch before going for the Marauder's Map one more time.


	14. Chapter Fourteen: Playing Fetch

**Chapter 14: Chapter Fourteen: Playing Fetch**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the franchise of Harry Potter. The world and characters used in this story belongs to J.K. Rowling. Material has been altered to suit the needs of this fanfiction.

**Warning:** This story is rated M for strong language and graphic violence.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Fourteen:<strong>

**Playing Fetch**

**...**

**The North Tower****, 30 November 1991**

Harry walked quietly with Tonks through the tower heading toward Hogwarts grounds. He appreciated the chance to see her again before their two Houses took to the pitch against each other. There was a part of Harry that feared the Quidditch rivalry would cause Tonks to distance from him. This was still new territory for him: friendship with family. Only in his relationship with Sirius did Harry feel completely confident he couldn't screw things up so easily. The man had spent nearly a decade on a quest to find him; Sirius had been his savior. But Tonks, he cared for her so much, yet just like with any of his friends, he couldn't shake the fear that she could turn from him at any moment. Harry had to remind himself again, there was no Dudley Dursley to ruin things at Hogwarts.

"So are you ready to get your arse handed to you today?" Tonks joked.

"My _arse_ will be doing a victory lap after I beat Diggory to the Snitch," Harry shot back.

Tonks whacked him across the back of his head.

"Don't say 'arse', Harry," she scolded.

"You just did," Harry whined while rubbing the spot where she popped him.

"I'm an adult," Tonks answered. Harry opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. "Well, close enough anyway. Now behave yourself." She smirked at his indigence to her remark.

They exited the North Tower. Ahead of them was the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch. They would be splitting up to go their separate ways in a moment. They had both been so busy lately; Harry wondered when he'd get to spend time with her again.

"Are you still behind in your Potions homework?" Tonks asked him.

"Yeah," Harry grumbled. He was ready for Oliver's practices to let up so he could focus on his school work again.

"Meet me in the Transfiguration Corridor after lunch tomorrow,' Tonks told him. "I'll give you a hand, okay?"

"Yeah," Harry replied brightly. "Thanks." Harry was excited to spend more time with her, even if it was to work on an assignment for Snape.

"Alright," Tonks said as she began to head away from the pitch. "Good luck, I hope you catch the Snitch."

"Really?" Harry asked her in surprise.

"Of course," Tonks said, still backing away from him. "I would prefer if Hufflepuff was ahead enough to still win when you do though. See if you could make that happen for me. That way my friends won't be so angry when I cheer for you."

Harry's smile didn't waver until long after Tonks was out of view. He allowed himself these few moments of peace, watching older students fly around aimlessly above the grounds near the stadium. Soon the Quidditch Pitch would fill to capacity to watch the two remaining undefeated Houses go toe to toe. The school would have all eyes on him as he battled Diggory for the Snitch.

Harry headed in the direction of the pitch but continued past it, circling around the back of it before sneaking out into the forest for his clandestine meeting with Sirius Black. Entering the clearing, he thought he was the first to arrive until a shimmer in the air caught his eye and his godfather dropped his Disillusionment Charm.

"How long do we have before anyone expects you?" Sirius asked while giving Harry a one armed hug.

"Oliver wants us in the locker room a couple hours before the game," Harry answered. "He's going to drill us over the game plan once more before we run warmups."

"You'll be fine out there," Sirius tried to calm Harry's nerves. "You were born for the air."

Harry nodded his head, glancing over his shoulder in the direction of the pitch. Sirius walked past him and move into position where he could get a good view of Hogwarts Grounds beyond the brush and trees.

"I have an idea for tonight," Sirius said, not taking his eyes off the open field in front of him. Nearby, a group of Slytherins played Shuntbumps, while younger years sat below them laughing. Shuntbumps was a brutal and childish game with the simple goal of one player attempting to knock the other off their broomstick: amusing to watch, but painful to play.

"You won't have to wait for the password this time," Sirius said. "There's too much pressure on you already."

"The Map's important," Harry said, "I'll get it." He tried to appear confident, but his trepidations betrayed him.

"It is," Sirius admitted. "With what's going on in the castle, I fear for your safety. After the Dursleys, I wanted you to experience fun and adventure. Sneaking around after curfew, pranking Slytherins, those sorts of things, that's the kind of trouble I hoped for you. Its apart of growing up; one of my favorites. Back in the day, your father and I went looking for that kind of trouble for our own amusement.'

"I thought the Forbidden Corridor would be an exciting challenge, with no true danger. I didn't want you to have to fear real threats. This is too treacherous for you to be meddling in the middle of it all. Once we get the Map, I'll take it from there. I'll do anything to keep you safe from true harm, Harry.'

Sirius gripped Harry's shoulder, and looked down at him.

"Now, if you're game, I thought up a plan to beat the twins to the trunk."

"How?" Harry asked. He'd been wondering what Sirius would come up with since the night before.

"The twins still plan to leave from Gryffindor Tower at midnight, right?" Sirius waited for Harry to nod in the affirmative. "Good. We need to position you as close to Filch's Office as we can. But last night proves it's best if you weren't out of bounds until you had to be."

"Their dorm room is closer to the exit than mine," Harry said. "I don't know how I can get closer without hiding somewhere in the castle."

"You won't have to hide," Sirius explained. "You'll be in the Hospital Wing."

"How am I supposed to get in there?" Harry asked skeptically. He had a feeling he wouldn't like the answer.

"Because I'm going to curse you," Sirius said with a hint of a smile. "Don't worry; it won't be anything too severe. You'll appear to be just ill enough for Madam Pomfrey to hold you over for the night."

"Is it safe?" Harry said while eyeing his godfather's wand.

"Absolutely," Sirius insisted. "I used it on your dad for something similar once."

"Okay," Harry agreed to being cursed. He trusted Sirius. The man would never hurt him on purpose.

"Here," Sirius said as he leaned through the trees, "I'll show you; _Ennverate_."

Sirius took aim with his wand and sent the spell toward the group of young Slytherins watching the Shuntbumps game. A barely visible wisp of blue magic twirled through the air as if carried by the wind, hitting a pretty dark haired Slytherin in the back of her head.

"I already said I'd let you curse me," Harry said frowning. The girl Sirius chose was from Harry's year, _Ms. Greengrass_, if Harry remembered correctly.

"I know," Sirius answered, "now watch."

Harry's gut told him the reason Sirius fired the spell had less to do with showing off the spell's effects and more to do with getting the chance to curse a Slytherin. Still, Harry watched on dutifully. At first the girl only seemed agitated; then she began to tug on her robes. Whispers were shared between her and the curly haired girl next to her. The other girl, another first year Harry recognized as _Ms. Davis_, put her hand to Greengrass's forehead. Then they both got up and Davis led Greengrass toward the castle.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"It's a bastardization of the Revitalizing Spell, 'Rennervate'." Sirius explained. "The Reviving Spell fills your target with energy and revitalizes them. Drop the 'R' and you get 'Ennverate', a spell that overheats your target, like baking under the summer sun. Nothing too harmful, but it certainly isn't pleasant. When Madam Pomfrey runs her diagnostic, you'll appear to have a mild fever."

"How long will it last?" Harry asked, but before Sirius could answer, he thought of a better question. "How am I supposed to find you again after the game? Once it's all over, win or lose, I'll be surround by classmates. You can't curse me if I can't get away."

"You won't see me again until after you have the Map," Sirius told Harry. "Now hold still and let your godfather curse you like a good boy."

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch<strong>**, 30 November 1991**

Harry wiped sweat from his eyes, pushing his hair back in the process. Even with the cooling charm Sirius placed on his jersey to counteract the heat of the 'Ennervate' casted on him, Harry was still unnaturally warm flying in the November sky. Of course, the sweating may have not been completely from Sirius's spell. A half hour into the Gryffindor Hufflepuff match, this game was amounting to the most difficult of the season.

Diggory was soaring around the pitch at speeds greater than Harry could achieve upon his Oakshaft 79. Diggory's broom was a Cleansweep Seven, a gift from his father for making the Hufflepuff team. It was considered a top of the line racing broom, maximizing its efficiency for the straightaways. While Harry's Oakshaft was more maneuverable, the Cleansweep was undoubtedly the superior broom for Seekers.

Both Harry and Cedric Diggory spotted the Snitch a few moments before. Harry's position put him ahead of the faster flyer. He was able to stall Diggory's pursuit by cutting him off and steering him into the swarm of Chasers above the pitch. Both Seekers, losing sight of the Snitch through the chaos, circled around, starting their search over again. Harry knew he had been lucky. If he couldn't keep Diggory within reach, he was sure next time the Snitch would go to Hufflepuff.

Keeping Diggory distracted, that was Oliver Wood's game plan. Hufflepuff's Chasers were fair, but had by no means played to the standards of the Gryffindor girls this season. It was Diggory's skill as a Seeker that appeared to be the deciding factor in Hufflepuff's previous wins. The theory was that Harry would be unlikely to beat Diggory; the brooms just didn't compare. Harry's job was to interfere with Diggory's search until the girls were able to outscore the Hufflepuffs by 60 points or more before allowing Diggory the opportunity to make the grab. So far, Harry was able to live up to his end. However, there was one major hitch to Wood's plan.

While Harry struggled to keep pace with Diggory, the Gryffindor Chasers weren't fairing as well as hoped. Harry was losing count of the turnovers and missed throws Lee Jordan reported from the announcer's box. It was surprising to find the girls so off their game, and of their performances none was more surprising than Katie Bell's broom handling. All season she had been such a strong flyer, but today her handling was shaky at best. Fortunately the Weasley twins were up to the challenge, slowing the Hufflepuffs down with well-timed Bludgers. Gryffindor was behind, but the Snitch could still earn them the win.

Oliver Wood signaled Harry over.

"Forget Diggory," Wood shouted to Harry. "Find the Snitch or we're toast."

Harry nodded and flew back into the fray. The last he saw the Snitch, it had speed off below the other players. Above him, he still saw Cedric Diggory flying lazy laps above the pitch. This was the standard maneuver for Seekers, staying out of the way while getting a bird's eye view for spotting the tiny golden ball.

Harry did not have the luxury of sticking to those standard practices. He would have to break from the traditional role if he hoped to win the game for Gryffindor. It was a gamble requiring a great deal of luck. If the Snitch had changed its path drastically again, Harry would be out of position. With no other real option, he dove through the Hufflepuff Chasers, forcing them to scatter to avoid collision.

Now below the Chasers, Harry scouted for the Snitch low on the field. As he scanned for his target, he heard Lee Jordan yell out to the crowd.

"Gryffindor has the Quaffle," Jordan cheered. "Potter broke Hufflepuff Chaser formation, and Johnson made the steal!"

"Johnson passes to Spinnet," Jordan announced. "Spinnet pulls back and passes to Bell. Bell is open for the shot. Looks like Bell lost her grip. She recovers and passes back to Johnson. Johnson is in some heavy coverage now, looking for Spinnet… no, she goes for the shot!"

Harry heard cheering. Gryffindor scored, but he knew it still wasn't enough. He needed that Snitch. He looked back up to check on Diggory. The other Seeker was still high above him circling. As Harry lowered his gaze again, that's when he saw the Snitch fluttering just behind George Weasley's foot. Not waiting another moment, he flew toward the Beater.

Harry was flying between players again. Weaving in and out of the action, Harry deftly avoided back to back Bludgers fired his way. The other players had caught on. They all knew he had spotted the Snitch. Diggory would be on him soon.

The Snitch moved, forcing Harry to change direction and charge back into the mass of players again. This time Gryffindor girls pulled from their battle with the Quaffle to block the other players from halting Harry's pursuit. Wood's plan was good in theory, but the Quaffle didn't matter anymore. They had to insure Harry's success.

He was gaining on the Snitch. He knew Diggory was shrinking the lead, but Harry was going to beat him. The ball was only inches away now; he could almost wrap his fingers around it. All distractions disappeared from his mind. It was just him and the Snitch. Stretching out further, just as he began to grab the flying golden sphere, his body suddenly and painfully collided with something hard. Dizzy from the hit, Harry fought against his broom as he spiraled further and further from the Snitch.

Harry pulled out of his spinning fall and attempted to head back to the pack, but something tugging on his jersey sleeve stopped him. Turning to see what it was, he found Katie Bell bucking on her broom, one hand on the shaft, the other clinging to Harry for stability. Harry took hold of her just in time, as the broom finally gave out from beneath her and tumbled to the ground. The next instant, Fred Weasley was there helping seat Katie on Harry's broom.

The stadium was quiet but for a disgruntled group of Slytherin fans, who were unlikely to be pleased no matter the outcome of the match. All other eyes were now on the two youngest players on the pitch. The Chasers, Beaters, Keepers Gryffindor and Hufflepuff alike, had drifted toward the center of the field, an expression of confusion clearly visible on all their faces. Just beyond Wood, Cedric Diggory was the last to catch on. His wide smile dimmed as he realized something amiss had taken place. He looked to Harry and then to his own hand. In it, Diggory held the Snitch.

Harry's heart sank.

* * *

><p><strong>Hospital Wing<strong>**, 30 November 1991**

Harry sat in silent outraged while tucked under the white linens of his hospital bed. Hours after the match, Harry was still angry. The Slytherin Chasers had somehow cursed Katie Bell's broom, while hidden in the audience.

That the broom was cursed was plain to see. Though broom's magic was only slightly affected in the earlier moments of the game, by the end it violently lashed out against its rider. It was only thanks to Hermione's observant eye, that the Slytherins were discovered in the stands. Seated closer to the Slytherins than she would have liked to be, she spotted the Chasers amongst the sea of other Snakes pointing their wands toward Katie.

The worst news Harry received was that Flint, Warrington and Pucey were led by none other than the Head of Slytherin House, Severus Snape. While the Chaser boys trained their wands on Katie's broom, it was Snape who stood a couple rows ahead of them chanting in a whisper. In panic, Hermione released a Blue Bell Flame on Snape's robe causing a small tether in the Slytherin seats. The chanting ceased due to the distraction, which was when Katie's broom finally gave out and fell from beneath her. Harry wasn't sure what a Blue Bell Flame was, but he was sure Hermione would tell him more than he wanted to know eventually. For now, he could only stew in the dark and wait.

He had been in the Hospital Wing for a several hours now. Dinner had long passed, but Harry was still feeling the effects of Sirius's spell. Across from him and several beds over, Daphne Greengrass laid fitfully sleeping through the effects of the same spell. Harry decided he liked her better this way.

When Harry first came to the Hospital Wing escorted by his teammates, Greengrass already occupied a bed. As soon as she spotted him, both she and her visitor, Tracey Davis, glared at him from across the room. When Madam Pomfrey announced his symptoms to be the same as Greengrass's, Daphne Greengrass even accused Harry of somehow being responsible for her own condition. Never mind that she was partly right, Harry was upset that she voiced the rather unlikely conclusion. Her unsettling looks continued to plague him through the afternoon, her expression only changing to a small sneer when she overheard Hermione tell Harry about the Slytherin Chasers. Harry was rather pleased when Greengrass accepted the Sleeping Draught from Madam Pomfrey.

Harry pocketed his own Sleeping Draught. He knew he couldn't remain in bed much longer. Soon the Weasley's would make their move from Gryffindor Tower. Greengrass was finally asleep and Madam Pomfrey had retired to bed a few moments ago, extinguishing the candlelight of the Hospital as she did.

The sound of pecking on glass drew him from his contemplations to the tall window behind him. Outside the window was a grey owl. The Hogwarts Crest was engraved upon a pendant tied around her neck by a small gold chain, and in the owl's grasp was a rolled up piece of parchment.

Harry silently opened the window and accepted the parchment from the owl, which flew off as soon as it completed its mission. Unfurling the parchment, Harry saw a short note written in large swooping handwriting.

_From the Desk of Argus Filch_

_Dear Pup,_

_The word of the day is Thumbscrews._

_Love,_

_Padfoot_

Several questions ran through Harry's mind. _How did Sirius get the password? How could he risk sending a message from the Owlery? What are Thumbscrews?_

Obviously the note wasn't actual letterhead from Filch's office. The header was written in Sirius's handwriting along with the rest of it. Still he'd manage to recover the password, most likely at great personal risk. With Madam Pomfrey gone, it was time for Harry to act.

Rising from his bed, Harry donned his Quidditch jersey. Immediately he felt the cooling effects magically placed on the item. He then retrieved the rest of his clothes. After getting dressed, he made his way over to Madam Pomfrey's potions cabinet. Most potions and salves were securely locked away. What Harry was after was among the few cures which could be found collected on shelves unprotected by magic. These treatments were all mild in effect and harmless to healthy wizards. Wound-Cleaning Potions, Burn-Healing Paste, Bezoar Stones and the like were all available for Harry's taking. Reaching past a Pepperup Potion, Harry grabbed a vial of Calming Draught.

Ennervate, originating from the Revitalizing Spell, flooded the body with energy in a similar fashion. As Ennverate was not a traditional spell, Madam Pomfrey did not know it could be counteracted in the same way as Rennverate, just as she was unable to detect its use in the first place. According to Sirius, the Calming Draught would reverse the overheating effects of the spell.

Harry chugged the draught and instantly felt his body cool down until his charmed jersey gave him chills. Harry switched out the cold uniform top for his hospital robe and made to leave, but a thought caused him to hesitate. Seeing Greengrass still fighting Sirius's spell as she slept, Harry turned back to the cabinet and nicked a second vial of Calming Draught. The girl may have been rather unpleasant and contrary, but Harry felt guilt for her condition. Tiptoeing to her bedside, he poured the tiny vial's contents into her mouth. As soon as the draught was emptied, her body relaxed and her sleeping temperament turned peaceful. Harry noted she was a rather pleasant looking girl when she did not have a scowl plastered on her face.

Exiting the hospital, Harry crept through the hallways of Hogwarts for the second night in a row. The Hospital Wing was on the third floor of the castle, putting him four floors closer to Filch's office than the twins. But it was nearly midnight, and he was on the opposite side of the castle than Filch's Office, so he'd have to hurry.

Harry avoided the Central Tower, choosing to cut across west along the northern most section of the castle before exiting the interior and heading south between the green houses and the castle's outer wall. Harry was familiar with the northern most section of the castle including the Gryffindor Tower, which held his dorm room, and the North Tower, a tower he often passed through on his way to the Quidditch Pitch. Travelling past the green houses put him near Filch's Office in the hallway opposite the direction of the Grand Staircase. The twins were more likely to take the Grand Staircase, as it was faster and also because they intended to be caught. Harry, on the other hand, did his best to stay away from the areas of the castle more likely to be patrolled.

When Harry reached the front of Filch's Office, he was careful to listen for sounds of activity beyond the door. It would do no good to be discovered by Filch as soon as he entered. Hearing nothing from within, Harry spoke the password.

"Thumbscrews," Harry said, bending over as if to whisper it through the keyhole.

There was an audible click and the door popped open. Pushing the door back wider, Harry entered into room of total darkness. He raised his wand to cast the first spell Sirius taught him when they made the decision to take the Map.

"_Lumos_," Harry muttered.

A small yellow glow emitted from his wand, illuminating the office.

The interior was a wreck. For a moment Harry wondered if the twins already beat him inside and trashed the place looking for the trunk. On closer inspection, Harry realized Filch was just a slob. Half eaten containers of food, wizarding magazines and torn open envelopes cluttered the caretaker's desk. Stacks of books stood as tall as Harry against wall with chained shackles dangling from the ceiling in front of it. Between two wooden chairs facing Filch's desk, there was even a single worn-sole shoe. Harry saw no signs of it mate, though Harry imagined it could be under the pile of discarded robes gathered just to the left of him.

Harry walked behind Filch's desk to the filing cabinets. The twins said the hidden closet was just through them. Harry opened one cabinet door after another until one released the catch that slid the cabinets out of the way to reveal the room. Things were a bit more organized here. There were cardboard boxes of different sizes stack on top of each other, each labeled with a name and years attended. Harry found Fred and George's names written on the box closest to him, and decided it was best not to look inside.

Looking toward the back of the closet, Harry finally found what he was looking for. It was the only trunk in the tiny room full of boxes. Moving a couple broomsticks that leaned against it, Harry waved his glowing wand over the trunk to get a better look. 'Marauders 1971-1978', it read in red ink. Harry backed away from the trunk, prepared to cast the second spell Sirius taught him over the last few weeks. He steeled his resolve hoping that the Trunk Unlocking Spell worked better than his failed Silencing Spell.

"_Cistem Asperio_," Harry spoke clearly.

The trunk shook and the padlock shined green before falling to the floor with a _clank_. With relief and a bit of surprise that the spell worked while his wand was still lit by the Wand-Lighting Charm, Harry lifted the lid. He was looking for a messenger bag, which Sirius claimed Wormtail always carried. Within it, there was a secret compartment with a permanent Extension Charm. It was a bit of magic James Potter had done for Wormtail so he'd have a hiding spot for the items they used during Marauder missions.

"Wormtail swore to us the Map was safe in the compartment," Sirius had told Harry, "but I can't be too sure. Filch only took the bag in the first place because Wormtail forgot to put away our Wizarding Wireless. Filch didn't approve of our choice in music blaring down the halls at all hours.'

"If the Map isn't in the compartment," Sirius had added, "pray it was left alone in the bag. I'm afraid that it could have been tossed with the rubbish if Filch didn't think it important."

Harry lifted the messenger bag from the trunk. It was near the top of the pile, only a yo-yo and a bent telescope with a cracked lens lay on top of it. The yo-yo rolled off, falling against a broken and bundled broom. Watching it fall, something shinny caught Harry's eye. Harry dug through the pile and found a black handle twice as long as his fist was wide. He examined it, bringing his wand light closer. After some experimentation, Harry was able to pull out a blade that was folded into the handle along the seam. With a _click_ the blade locked and a guard fell into place, leaving Harry holding a small dagger. Harry put the blade away and then pocked the dagger. He knew Sirius would be ecstatic to be reunited with his old gift from Prongs.

After discovering the knife, Harry wondered what else he would find worth keeping in the trunk. He began to dig past a chess set to find out, when he heard Filch's gruff voice yelling from outside of the office. Alarmed by Filch's arrival, Harry feared he'd be caught. Not knowing what else to do, he pulled the cabinets back into place, trapping himself inside the closet.

"Thought it'd be a nice night for a bit of stargazing," Harry heard George Weasley tell Filch. "You know, really take it all in." George was the twin who planned to be captured.

"I bet you did," Filch answered back with sarcasm. "I bet next you're going to tell me you left your brother back in Gryffindor Tower too."

"Who?" George feigned innocence. "You mean Percy? Course I did. That boy has no appreciation for the greater wonders of our universe, let me tell you."

"You know who I mean," Filch said, "the other one of you… whichever one you isn't."

Inside the closet, Harry desperately racked his brain for an exit strategy. Of course that was until he remember just who was most likely to open the closet next. If the twins' plan was a success, George would find him, and Harry would be able to escape without Filch ever discovering he was there. The only downside, Harry would have to confess he tried to beat the twins to the trunk. If it meant he got the Map, Harry would just have to face their wraith for his betrayal.

Harry closed the trunk lid and reattached the lock to make it appear as if he had failed in his attempt. Looking down at the messenger bag, Harry hoped he'd be able to convince George he had brought it with him to carry the items he found. But Harry wasn't confident he could fool the boy without letting him get a good look inside. Could George discover the hidden compartment? Harry couldn't take the risk.

Flipping open the bag, Harry first saw an old radio he assumed was the Wizarding Wireless Sirius told him about. Along with it, were a couple rolled up pieces of parchment containing a Herbology assignment, a long eagle feathered quill and an overdue library book, _Encyclopedia of Toadstools_. Feeling the inside seam of the bag with his fingers, Harry found the secret compartment and stuck his hand inside. He expected to feel the crisp texture of parchment. Instead he gripped something smooth and silky. Whatever it was, there was a lot of it. With his arm up to his elbow submerged into the compartment, he was still feeling only the thin cloth material. Finally deciding he wouldn't be able to explore the compartment solely by touch with the cloth in the way, he extracted it from the bag.

Lifting the material up one handed, Harry was baffled by what he saw. His arm appeared to be handless, and where he knew there should be cloth, there was only empty air. Flipping the cloth over onto the floor, he removed his hand and the cloth turned into a fine woven silk of silvery grey. Experimenting with it, he pulled the cloth over his legs and watched as they and the cloth vanished from view.

Harry put his wand inside the messenger bag and threw the strap of the bag over his shoulder. He then grabbed the cloth with both hands and lifted it before him and covered himself. He checked for any signs of visibility through the cloth's magic, but found none. It worked even better than a Disillusionment Charm.

Remembering what he came to Filch's office for, Harry left the cloth draped from his shoulders as he dug through the bag again. This time, when he stuck his hand inside the compartment, he found paper. In his hands was a piece of blank parchment folded several times over. He pulled his wand from the bag and touched it to the paper.

"_I solemnly swear I'm up to no good_," Harry whispered reverently.

Ink spread out from the tip of his wand, weaving into scrolling patterns and words. There, across the top, along with the other Marauders was the name _Prongs,_ proof this map once belonged to James Potter. Finally Harry held something that belonged to his father.

Harry unfolded the Map to look inside. The floor plan of the castle lay before him, each fold revealing another level or wing of the castle. Finding the Ground floor and the Entrance Hall, he traced the path back to Filch's Office. The floor plan had two names written inside the office next to little footprints.

_There's George's and Filch's names, but where's mine?_ Harry wondered.

Still gripping his wand with his right hand, he touched the tip to the blank spot on the Map where he knew the hidden closet to be. As soon as his wand connected, ink flowed and an outline of the closet was added to the floor plan.

_That's how they added new sections to the Map_, Harry gathered.

Within the newly added closet, 'Harry Potter' was written over a pair of footprints, and next to his name, nearly on top of it, was 'Peter Pettigrew'. Harry panicked, fearing he was not truly alone. Not seeing anyone there with him, he looked back to the name. Peter Pettigrew's name appeared just in front of his own. He should have been looking right at him, if not touching nose to nose.

Then Harry remembered the quill he had found within the messenger bag. He took it in his hand and waved it, watching the Map as 'Peter Pettigrew' appeared where ever Harry moved the quill. It must have been Wormtail's special quill, and that meant Wormtail's true name must have been Peter Pettigrew.

Now understanding he was in fact alone, Harry returned his attention to elsewhere on the Map in time to see a fifth name approach Filch's Office. Fred Weasley was now just outside. Fred stopped by the door for a moment and then scurried off to the end of the hallway and waited. From within the office, Harry heard scratching against wood and then Filch's voice.

"Alright," Filch said, "settle down Mrs. Norris. I'll let you out, but this better not be that rat again. That filthy vermin doesn't look to be in good health. It'll probably make you sick if you ate it."

The sound of the door opening was followed by a bang and shouting and laughter from both Weasley twins.

"You stay here," Filch yelled, "I'll deal with you after I catch your brother."

"Wouldn't dream of budging from the spot," George merrily replied.

The door slammed shut and a chair creaked. On the Map, George's footsteps headed for the closet. Harry threw the Map back into the bag and drew the cloth over his body completely. Just as he uttered '_Nox_' to extinguish the light of his wand, the cabinets slid out of the way to allow George entrance.

"_Lumos_," George said, filling the closet with light again.

There was a large grin on George's face as he eyed the trunk predatorily. He dropped to his knees in front of the trunk and cast the Trunk Unlocking Spell just as Harry had before him. When George lifted the lid and started filling his pockets, Harry took his chance for escape. If the sound of the door opening and closing startled George, Harry hadn't stuck around long enough to notice.

Once again outside of the castle near the path to the Owlery, Harry finally stopped running. He was under the magical protection of invisibility and he had the Map. He'd be safe now. He considered returning straight to the relative safety of the Hospital Wing, but then thought better of it. He would have to return by morning before Madam Pomfrey woke, but he had another stop to make first.

He no longer feared being caught. Tonight he would go to Hagrid's Hut and then the Forbidden Forest to see Sirius. He would show his godfather the Map and the cloth, and then he'd surprise him again by returning Sirius's once lost knife.

As Harry travelled through the night, invisible to the world, he finally understood the thrill of adventure his godfather had told him so much about.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Harry has the Invisibility Cloak now, which is weeks earlier than cannon. I've always had a problem with Dumbledore gifting young Harry the Cloak with everything going on in the castle. I also have an issue with James lending the cloak when his son was targeted by Voldemort. There's the manipulation theory, there's the senile theory, there's the 'magic makes everyone stupid' theory and that's about it. This story is avoiding that particular issue by bypassing that Christmas gift altogether. James never gave the Cloak to Dumbledore because James lost it in his seventh year.

Spells explained: Ennervate and Rennervate are both spells used in the books. JK Rowling and her publishers decided to change Ennverate to Rennervate when someone realized Ennervate means "to weaken". So, technically only Rennervate remains cannon. For this fiction, they are two different spells. Ennervate works similarly to Rennervate with a twist. Instead energizing the target, it takes the same energy to overheat the body and "weakens" the target by making them feel sickly hot.

Hopefully you're starting to see how Sirius's involvement so early on is shaping Harry's viewpoints differently from cannon. Also… _hopefully_… it makes sense.

**Next Chapter:** The holiday approaches, and Harry plays with his toys early. Also, Hermione confronts Harry.


	15. Chapter Fifteen: Cloak & Folding Dagger

**Chapter 15: Chapter Fifteen: Cloak and Folding Dagger**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the franchise of Harry Potter. The world and characters used in this story belongs to J.K. Rowling. Material has been altered to suit the needs of this fanfiction.

**Warning:** This story is rated M for strong language and graphic violence.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Fifteen:<strong>

**Cloak and Folding Dagger**

**...**

**Gryffindor Common Room****, 10 December 1991**

The white knight stared down his pearly lance at the trembling black robed bishop. His steed reared up and kicked at the air, as he plunged the point of his weapon through his opponent's chest, shattering the bishop into pieces. Now nothing stood between him and the black king.

"Checkmate," Ron Weasley declared.

Ron's victory marked Harry's fifth defeat in as many games over the last couple hours. Harry was tiring on games; first several rounds of exploding snaps with Seamus, and then wizard's chess with Ron filled most of his day. Though it was a Tuesday, there were no classes in observance of Commemoration Day. Beginning with a feast, the students would then move to the courtyard, where they would enjoy a fireworks display.

Harry had never heard of the holiday before. Strictly observed by wizards, Ron explained that the holiday celebrated the defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald and his army 47 years previous. He accredited solely Dumbledore for the win, but Harry could not help thinking there was probably a bit more to it.

"Want to play again?" Ron asked.

"Five losses in a row are enough for me, thanks," Harry replied, pushing away from the table.

Ron, who was already setting the board, frowned at losing his competitor, but his blue eyes lit up not a moment after.

"Nev!" Ron shouted across the room, "how about a game or two?"

Neville Longbottom ducked his head from the embarrassing stares sent his way for Ron's outburst in the crowded common room. Still, he made his way over, accepting the invitation with a small smile.

Harry took Neville's arrival as his chance to escape, and his grabbed his leather messenger bag, the one that once belonged to Wormtail. No longer was it worn and dulled. Sirius had seen to that the night Harry first found it. With a couple of spells, Sirius claimed it looked better than it ever had in Wormtail's possession. An additional wave of his wand had cut and marked the leather, leaving a golden embossed 'H.P.' shining on the face of it. This was Harry's bag now.

Ducking Percy's watchful eye, Harry silently exited the common room to the halls of the castle, hoping to bring as little notice to his departure to the other students as possible. He was off to find a place he could be sure no one would be watching him. Harry gripped his bag securely as he thought about what he was about to do. Within the bag, he kept both the Marauder's Map and the magic cloth he now knew to be an 'Invisibility Cloak'. When Harry revealed the latter to his godfather, the Animagus had been even more surprised than when Harry returned his beloved and lost folding dagger.

The Invisibility Cloak was originally a gift to James Potter from Harry's grandfather, Charlus Potter. Now, Sirius said it was for Harry to use. The night of the theft, standing within the cover of the Forbidden Forest, Sirius remembered it fondly. The Marauders had used it for many of their greatest adventures; to Sirius, the Cloak was as treasured as the Map. How it came into Wormtail's possession, Sirius could only speculate, and he was not happy with what he came up with. All tells of high adventure were forgotten as he spoke of his theory.

"The best I can figure," Sirius had told Harry that night, "Wormtail turned on us far sooner than we thought.'

"You have to understand; when Wormtail lost that bag, we were seventh years. At the time, tensions were high and the wizarding world was on the brink of war. Many of the Slytherins from our class eventually became Death Eaters. Voldemort was recruiting, and his side was growing stronger and more confident by the day. It wasn't easy for Muggle-born like your mum. We were of course the most outspoken against the lot of them, those seventh year snakes, and we were considered their biggest threat in the school," Sirius grinned at that, puffing his chest up a bit, before continuing his troubling story. "So naturally we had our own private skirmishes within the castle walls.'

"The night Wormtail got pinched by Filch, we were on a retaliation mission for a rather unpleasant stunt the Slytherins pulled the weekend before. They got in and out of Gryffindor Tower, trashed the place. No one even noticed they were there until they were already gone. For the life on me, I couldn't figure out how they pulled it off, that is, until your father discovered the Cloak was missing.'

"I blamed Snape of course,' Sirius had paused to watch as Harry nodded along. "He knew of the Cloak, one of the few who did. He was also the cleverest Slytherin in our year. The cruelest spells in the Slytherin arsenal came straight from him. But Wormtail had the Invisibility Cloak in his bag? That leaves me questioning Snape's roll.'

"They gained entrance to our common room; not completely impossible to an outsider to our house, but difficult none the less. Passwords were changed more frequently back then due to the political climate of the time. But the Slytherins did so completely unseen. I don't know how many of them were involved on the raid, could have been one or twenty. My guess now though, there were at minimum two culprits, at least one Slytherin and a single traitorous Gryffindor.'

"Wormtail gave them the password and used the Cloak to sneak them in and out unseen," Harry had said, putting together Sirius's theory for himself. "I don't understand; why did he do it?"

"I don't know," Sirius had responded. "Did they have something on him, blackmail of some sort? Maybe he was on their side from the beginning. He could have been a spy, giving little scraps of information to the Death Eaters for years until he came across the most important secret we had."

Wormtail, _Peter Pettigrew_, was still alive somewhere. Sirius wanted to hunt him. Instead, he spent years searching for Harry, and now he was keeping Harry safe. Harry swore to learn as much as he could, become a proper wizard, and help his godfather take Wormtail down. With the traitor exposed, Sirius would be free. Harry would make sure that.

But today was not the day he would find Wormtail. He had years ahead of him before Sirius said he would be ready to bring in the dark wizard. Today was for exploration. With the tools used by the Marauders themselves, Harry would find hidden doors, unexplored passageways and play like the eleven year old his was. These orders came straight from his godfather, and Harry planned to follow them.

Sirius had to remain in the guise of Black Dog during school hours. He would use the natural sleeping behavior of a dog to his advantage, resting during odd hours of the day. At night, he would use the Marauder's Map to act as guardian to the school, watching for the thief to try for the Forbidden Corridor a second time. This meant during the daytime hours Harry had access to the Map along with the Cloak.

Harry wound his way through the castle, taking the less travelled passageways, until he came on the hallway leading to the Hogwarts Trophy Room. He had come here several times in the last few days, hiding within the same false wall he and Ron had used back in September. No one could see him within it. It was the only place in the castle he was completely sure he was not being watched.

"Harry," the unmistakable voice of Hermione Granger came from behind him.

Harry had yet to pass through the false wall. His secret had not been revealed.

"Harry, stop," Hermione spoke again. This time Harry turned around. "I know what you've been doing."

"You do?" Harry did not mean to ask her out loud, but he was so startled, he voiced his thought.

"You've been disappearing for weeks," Hermione said. She was ringing her hands in the front of her robes, "even more so than usual. Do you think I didn't notice you sneak out after hours again?" She was frowning, voice low, just on the edge of accusatory. "The night before the Hufflepuff match, you told the twins you went to the library. You said the same to the other boys."

"Damn it, Neville," Harry muttered his curse, immediately deciding Neville was the most likely to tell Hermione.

"He just worries about you," Hermione said. "I do too. It's why I wish you'd stop. I've been too afraid to say anything. I don't want you to hate me… but please Harry, you can't go against Professor Snape all on your own."

Harry took a good look at Hermione for the first time since she found him. Her eyes were red, newly wet and on the verge of tears. She stared back at him, not daring to look away, as if to challenge him to disagree. Her expression, however, had lost its harsh lines as soon as the flicker of a glare emerged. Now it was all soft edges shaped as a defenseless, wordless plea for understanding. When he didn't reply straight away, her chin lowered, her shoulders slumped. But her auburn eyes never moved from his, still hoping, gazing back at him through all of her wild, waving light brown hair.

What was he to say? 'Don't fear, Hermione. My outlaw godfather is on the case,'would not suffice. He also could not explain the Marauder's Map. He knew what she would want to do with it. Without revealing Sirius, he was just one boy attempting to take on an adult dark wizard. The professors would make better use of the Map than a mere first year, she would claim. Harry could not completely fault her reasoning either.

"What exactly do you think I've been up to?" Harry finally asked. He needed to carefully handle this. Hermione was a good friend, the first true friend he made of his own age.

"You're sneaking off for the Corridor," Hermione said, as if it was the most obvious explanation. "You're trying to guard it, aren't you?"

_No wonder she's so upset,_ Harry thought. _She thinks I'm completely loony._

"No way," Harry shook his head vehemently while answering. "That would be mad. Me up against a full blown wizard, best I could hope for is tripping him up on his trousers with a well-placed Unlocking Charm straight to his belt buckle."

Hermione's chest shook with silent laughter, but she only appeared mirthful briefly, before speaking her mind.

"Then what _are_ you doing?" she asked. "Something to do with the Corridor, I'm positive. That day with Hagrid, when we found out about Fang, I know what you were doing. It wasn't by chance you found out how to get past the Cerberus."

"Right," Harry stalled. He tore his gaze away from Hermione, eyes wandering, searching for a focus. "Caught on to that, did you?" Chancing a look at her, Harry cringed when Hermione's inquisitive stance didn't budge.

"I want to know what's under the door," Harry revealed. "I want to know what's so important Dumbledore would risk the lives of his students to protect it. I want to find out who brought ogres into the castle, and I want them to be caught."

"Professor Snape?" Hermione guessed at Harry's chief suspect. "You think it's him, don't you?"

"Yeah," Harry said before remembering Sirius's advice, "most likely, but maybe not. I don't know; the professors don't know either, and it really doesn't seem like they care to find out."

"They don't, do they?" Hermione said dejectedly.

She believed in rules and authority, but her entire belief system was being ripped apart slowly. Harry knew this, and he could not help but feel guilty for ruining her faith in the professors.

"They just let him get away with it," Hermione spoke again. "Professor Snape, at the game he was chanting. Katie nearly got hurt."

"Maybe they didn't see him like you did," Harry offered, not wanting Hermione to feel so betrayed. "They weren't as close."

"I told Professor McGonagall what I saw," Hermione argued with a whine. "She said not to concern myself with adult matters. Too dangerous for a first year, she said. I tried to bring it up later, but she told me not to go around asking questions."

"And Snape is still ruling over the dungeons," Harry added. "If McGonagall did anything at all, it wasn't enough."

"So, what are you going to do?" Hermione asked.

"You went to McGonagall and she turned you away," Harry started. "If the direct approach didn't work, then I'll be sneaky instead. I'll figure out what they're hiding. If we know what's down there, we'll have a better idea of who might want it. Then I'll prove it's Snape…or whoever."

"There's not much to go on," Hermione pointed out.

"Whatever it is, it's small," Harry offered, "smaller than my fist. Fit right in Hagrid's pocket. It was round, but it was wrapped in paper. So, maybe the shape isn't right."

"So we know it's an object," Hermione deduced, "not information kept secret, but an actual _thing_…It was packaged and stored in a vault for who knows how long, so it's not living either." She puzzled over it a bit more. "And it's rare, otherwise why bother? It's perhaps one of a kind, or the last. There's also connection to Headmaster Dumbledore, even if just by association. It was on behalf of the Headmaster, Hagrid retrieved it from the bank." She smiled brightly at Harry. "That's more than I assumed we had to go on, a real starting place to be sure."

"We?" Harry asked Hermione to clarify. Harry was so impressed by Hermione's reasoning skills, he almost missed it. "You're going to help?"

"Of course, Harry," Hermione answered. "I have no intention of sneaking around the castle at odd hours, but you can depend on me for assistance. I'll go to the library and research from there."

"Great," Harry responded. "I wouldn't even know where to beginning look in that place."

"Magical artifacts," Hermione said. "I'll start there and try to narrow my search as I go."

They both stood unmoving in the hall for a beat before Hermione spoke again. Harry wasn't sure what to do next. He had planned to use the Map and Cloak, but as long as Hermione was there, that would not happen. Unfortunately, he could not figure out how to send Hermione on her way without offending her.

"So… while I'm off reading, what exactly are you going to be doing?" Hermione asked.

_So much for aimlessly exploring the castle_, Harry thought. He could not consciously send Hermione off to such an important task while he merely played. What was there for him to do?

"There's a chance we won't figure out what's below Fang," Harry replied, "and we may not be able to prove Snape is to blame. If that's the case, then I need to know how to get to the stone."

"But you know how to get past Fang now," Hermione argued, "and you said you weren't going to the corridor," she added.

"Fang is just the first trap," Harry said. "We think there are more." Harry stumbled with his words as soon as he realized he had misspoken. "Uh… don't _we_… you and I? The ogres were supposed to be troll guards, a job Professor Kettleburn was tasked with completing.'

"If Professor Kettleburn and Hagrid assisted Headmaster Dumbledore, then it stands to reason he'd ask for Professor Quirrell's aid as the resident Defense Against the Dark Arts Instructor. The other professors could be helping as well."

"So you're going to find out what defenses the professors came up with, and then do what with the knowledge?" Hermione asked.

"If I know what traps lay ahead and how to get past them, I can prove even a first year can best them," Harry explained. "If I can do it, an adult wizard surely could. The Headmaster would be forced to find a better hiding spot than the school."

"You plan to spy on the professors," Hermione guessed, "figure out who is involved and what they might have contributed." Harry nodded. "It won't work; you'll be caught."

Harry internally debated his next course of action. Finally making up his mind, he grabbed ahold of Hermione by her arms and pulled her toward him as he backed away, until they passed through the illusion of the false wall.

"Harry-y…this…" Hermione stammered as she looked around the secret spot.

Her eyes settled to her hands, which were placed against Harry's chest. The confined space left little room between them.

"Sorry," Harry apologized for their close proximity. "It's a bit of a tight fit."

"Yes," Hermione whispered, "very intimate."

"Hold on; it'll just be a second," Harry distractedly said, while digging through his messenger bag.

"Oh?" Hermione faintly asked, unsure of what Harry intended to do within their enclosure. Then she again spoke in surprise as Harry blanketed her with his Invisibility Cloak. "Oh!"

"Look down," Harry said.

"I'm invisible!" Hermione cried out in astonishment. "Where did you get this?"

"It was my father's," He replied. "A friend of his had it. Now it's been returned to me."

Harry imagined himself feeling lighter inside, after revealing a small piece of the secrets he had kept from Hermione. He took no pleasure in hiding the truth from her.

"Extraordinary," Hermione exclaimed.

"Yeah," Harry said, running his hand reverently over the silky material.

Both were lost in their own thoughts. Hermione studied the Cloak, rubbing it between her concealed fingers, while Harry's mind was wrapped up in the connection he felt to his father with the Cloak in his possession.

"How about I give you a hand in the library?" Harry suddenly asked, their mutual silence now broken. "I doubt it'll do me any good trying to follow the professors around right now; it's only an hour until dinner."

Uncovering Hermione, he ushered her back into the hallway proper, and stuffed the Cloak back into his bag. Together, the two Gryffindors headed for the library.

There were more students around now that they neared the Grand Staircase. Indistinguishable chatter echoed from paintings carrying on conversations with each other, and children talking and running up and down the stairs. Harry and Hermione just caught a moving staircase before it floated off and separated them from their destination of the fourth floor. Moving near the topmost step, they waited as it slid into position, connecting them with the hall leading to the Hogwarts Library.

They brushed past a group of taller students without giving them notice, until one of the older students called Harry's name. Cedric Diggory, fourth year and Seeker for Hufflepuff, tilted his head to the younger Seeker as a sign of recognition and then carried on with the rest of his year mates in the opposite direction of the library.

Harry held a certain amount of respect for the other Seeker. When word travelled through the student body that Katie Bell's broom had been tampered with, it was Diggory who first suggested a rematch. His sense of fair play would not allow him to accept the win. Wood declined, but the Gryffindor team still appreciated the gesture. The Hufflepuff team was not a bad lot. Too bad the same could not be said for Slytherin.

Entering the library, Harry spotted a couple members of the Slytherin team huddled with others from their house, split across two different tables and divided by their year. It didn't take long for one of the players to notice him as well. Adrian Pucey, the Slytherin Chaser, stood up when he saw Harry, his hand gripping his dark mahogany wand tightly. Hermione gasped, seeing his reaction, but before either first year could do more, Marcus Flint, from the table next to Pucey, grabbed the boy's sleeve and yanked him back into his seat. They whispered tensely to each other for a moment and then both boys merely glared at Harry, though in a much more subdued manor than Pucey had before.

Harry watched them both apprehensively while Hermione steered him to different section of the library. It appeared that nether Slytherin was going to attempt to do anything to him.

"Well," Harry said to Hermione, once they found a spot in the library, "that was intense…and odd."

"That was Adrian Pucey," Hermione needlessly pointed out. "He and the older boy were a part of the group who cursed Katie's broom."

"We lost just like they wanted," Harry said. "Why do you think he was so angry with me? And Flint was the one to stop him? Of all the wizards in Hogwarts, he's the last I'd imagine coming to my rescue."

"Orders from Professor Snape?" Hermione guessed. "Maybe he doesn't want them to draw any unnecessary attention."

He glanced back in their direction, but shelving blocked his view. What was the point of cursing Katie's broom? Both Hufflepuff and Gryffindor beat Slytherin in their matchups. Why did it matter that Hufflepuff should be the one to go undefeated in the first round of games? Whatever the reason, it did seem the boys were laying low. Last weekend's game, Slytherin played Ravenclaw without any foul play, with the exception of the usual tough defense the team was known for. Even Flint seemed to stay away from any snide remarks to the other teams.

"I don't know," Hermione admitted, "but you should be careful, Harry."

Harry agreed. If those particular Slytherins were silent in their anger, it was most likely Snape's orders keeping their more aggressive nature back. If Snape led them to curse Katie in the first place, Harry feared what the man could have planned that required the Slytherin boys to remain firmly on the leash. Sirius warned Harry the potion's professor was clever and was obviously playing some sort of game. For the most part, Snape still acted as if Harry did not exist. Only that day Harry joined the Gryffindor Quidditch team did Snape break, most likely from shock. But he publically attacked Katie. It did not make sense, and it did not seem to serve any purpose. That made Snape both unpredictable and dangerous.

It was that thought which distracted Harry as he feebly attempted to help Hermione in her research on magical artifacts. And it was the same thought that led to Harry splitting away from Hermione when they broke from their research for dinner.

Leaving the library, Harry saw Snape disappear in a direction leading away from the Great Hall. The greasy haired man warily eyed the students he passed, before quickly ducking around a narrow corridor further along the Fourth Floor. Harry was not sure where he was headed, but it seemed suspicious.

"I'll meet you in the Great Hall," Harry told Hermione.

"Okay," she reluctantly answered. She had seen Snape as well. Giving Harry's arm a squeeze for reassurance, she pointedly looked at his bag. Harry understood the silent message. _'Use the Cloak'_ her eyes signaled. "Don't miss the feast for this," she added before separating from him.

Slipping into the same corridor Snape took just moments before, Harry risked tugging his Cloak out of its hiding spot, threw it over his head, and disappeared from sight. Harry caught Snape's billowing black robes just as the man rounded a corner further ahead, and Harry took chase.

Harry hung back as far as he could dare while following Snape. The hallways were tight in this part of the castle. If Snape were to double back, there were not many spots Harry could retreat to avoid a collision with Snape. Hanging back as he did, Harry heard a conversation carrying on ahead of him before he saw the speakers.

"Severus," Dumbledore's smoky voice spoke. "I wasn't expecting you in this part of the castle."

"I understand the necessity to remain secretive," Snape began in his drawn out way, "however, there is a sense of urgency. I thought I might lend a hand."

Harry moved into a position where he could see both men. Though he was invisible, he only stuck his head around the corner, moving as slowly as he could.

Dumbledore's tall figure was adorned in a brightly decorated robe and matching pointed hat which magically shift from one color to the next in a rainbow of swirling reds, purples and blues. His cheerful demeanor and ease in posture stood out in contrast to the clandestine scenario Harry found him in.

"Appreciated but unnecessary," Dumbledore replied.

"If you're certain I can't be of service," Snape said.

Snape stepped back to withdraw himself away from Dumbledore, but paused, staring at the Headmaster for a moment in silence. His head gave the slightest dip before speaking.

"How are you?" Snape said in a serious, delicate way, dissimilar to the dispassionate inflection Harry expected from the commonly cold professor.

"Rather spry," Dumbledore said, bouncing in place a bit. A soft smile graced his face through is long white beard. "Though, I suppose that mustn't last forever."

Snape glanced away, and then looked back again, giving a subtle yet firm nod. He then spun volte-face, and walked briskly away. Harry was just able to squeeze close enough to the wall to avoid hitting Snape as he moved past.

Returning focus to Dumbledore, Harry watched as the Headmaster jiggled the handle of a door in front of him. Apparently pleased with what he found, Dumbledore headed down the corridor in the opposite direction as Snape. When Dumbledore disappeared from view, Harry moved to where the professors had held their conversation, drawn to the door the Headmaster had tested.

Wooden, with a long handle made of old dark iron, there was nothing of note distinguishing this average door from any classroom door found in the castle. Harry cautiously reached out and gave the handle a pull. Like Dumbledore before him, he was unable to open it. Checking the corridor to make sure he was still alone, Harry drew his wand.

"_Alohomora_," Harry casted.

Harry tested the door, but it was still locked. Frowning at his failure, Harry tried again.

"_Finite Incantatem_," He tried.

Nothing changed. They door still remained locked, not that it was any surprise to Harry. He still lacked any skill with the spell. Harry huffed and walked away to join his friends for the Commemoration Day celebration. He gave the passage way a final look back before leaving. He really wanted inside that door. There was something in there he needed to see; he could feel it in his gut.

* * *

><p><strong>The Forbidden Forest, 11 December 1991<strong>

"And he wouldn't let Snape see what he was doing?" Sirius questioned. "Well, perhaps there's hope for Dumbledore after all."

"What do you think is in there," Harry asked his godfather, "another monster?"

"Magical creature or some other magical protection would be likely," Sirius reasoned, "but it's rather hard to say. For all I know, the room could store lost sea scrolls or a drawer full of Dumbledore's unmentionables. We already have one corridor to worry about, and now Dumbledore has given us a second."

"Could it be a diversion?" Harry wondered.

"That's one possibility," Sirius agreed. "I'm still convinced the prize will be found through Fang's trap door. I've been watching the Map. Hagrid visits the third floor corridor twice every day, first to Fang's room and then to the room next to it."

Harry pondered for a bit before coming to a conclusion.

"He's been feeding Fang," Harry said. "You think the second room holds a creature Hagrid's been feeding as well. Do you think Kettleburn's trolls finally came in?"

"No," Sirius decided. "Nothing like that has been brought into the castle since the ogre incident. With Kettleburn gone, Hagrid would have been called in to lend a hand bringing another creature into the castle. I think the second creature was brought in by Quirrell months ago. It's the only time Hagrid has been called away for a special project.'

"Right or wrong, I've decided to find out for sure. Saturday, when the castle clears out for holiday, I'm going to figure out what lays beyond the trap door."

"The same way you got Filch's password?" Harry asked. Sirius had yet to explain how he pulled that off. "You could have been caught," Harry protested. "What makes you think you'll be so lucky again?"

"I got caught last time," Sirius said with a smirk. "I took a page from the twin Weasleys and planned it that way. As Black Dog, I accompanied Hagrid inside the castle and snuck off on my own. Then I made a big show of chasing Mrs. Norris until Filch had to let her in his office to get her away from me. Once he got Hagrid to drag me out of the castle, I just had to wait until after curfew to get into the Owlery and send you the password Filch used.'

"This time, I won't be so bold. My dagger opens locks better than a well-cast '_Alohomora_', and I'll use the Map to be safe," Sirius rationalized, "and if you lend me your cloak for the night, I'll be doubly sure to avoid capture."

* * *

><p><strong>Gryffindor First Year Boys Dormitory<strong>**, 14 December 1991**

It was too early in the morning for this much racket. Harry pulled his pillow over his head to dampen the sounds of his roommates frantically packing their trunks. Realizing sleep was a lost cause, Harry pulled himself from bed.

"Have you seen my shoe?" Ron's shout was only slightly dampened by speaking from under his bed.

"Check your trunk," Dean distractedly answered. He was attempting to close his overfull trunk lid, but was impeded by a wad of clothing sticking out from the sides.

"Why would I check there?" Ron asked, pulling his head out from under the bed. He flipped open the lid to his trunk anyway. "Oh yeah, there it is."

"I can't find Trevor," Neville exclaimed.

"Eh, leave him," Seamus said. "He'll still be waiting for you when you get back."

Seamus was the only other boy besides Harry not packing. Seamus was of the mind there was not much point. They would only be on holiday for three weeks, and they would not need their uniforms while on break. He decided to leave his trunk light, with plenty of room, in case he wanted to bring anything new he received for Christmas.

Harry moved past the boys and headed for the loo to shower. His dorm mates were a little too lively for him. It was not that he didn't share some of their excitement though. While they were all looking forward to travelling home, Harry was rather thrilled he would not be going back to the Dursleys' for Christmas. He was just tired. Between researching with Hermione, which had gotten him nowhere so far, end of term projects and time with Sirius, Harry had not had much time to himself.

It did not help that for the last couple of nights he had difficulty falling asleep. With everything going on, Harry just could not clear his mind. His most prevalent thought was that fourth floor door. It was one more mystery added to his troubles.

Returning from the shower, Harry dressed and then joined his fellow students in the Gryffindor Common Room. Between students, bags and cages, all the sitting areas were full. He looked for his friends in the mass of bodies, but as one of the shortest Gryffindors, it was not an easy task. Squeezing between Percy Weasley and a grey tabby cat perched on a wing back chair, Harry finally spotted a flash of Lavender's sandy colored ponytail past a group of fifth years. Harry pushed his way to her, hoping the others would be there as well.

"There you are," Hermione said in exasperation. "I was afraid you wouldn't come up until after we had all left."

"Can't believe you want to stay behind," Parvati said. "The whole castle will be practically empty."

"That sounds like the best part to me," Seamus replied. "You've got the whole place to yourself."

Harry remained quiet. He did not feel like sharing his resentment for the Dursleys. The other students had no idea what his home life was like, and Harry wanted to keep it that way.

"Here, Harry," Hermione whispered to him, while the others talked about their holiday plans.

She slipped a piece of parchment into his hands.

"It's a list," Hermione explained. "I can't help you while I'm away, so I wrote down a few titles I haven't looked through yet." She leaned in closer to whisper even softer. "A few are in the Restricted Section."

Harry nearly laughed out loud. Hermione, of all people, want him to use the Cloak to sneak into a section of books first years were banned from. Harry pocketed the note, though he doubted he would be much use going through them. Other than the restricted books, he was sure Hermione would most likely go through them on her own when she returned.

Harry followed as far as the Entrance Hall to wave to his friends, who were headed for the Hogwarts Express, laughing as the Weasley twins set off a loud firework on their way out. It was good to see them in a joyous mood along with everyone else. After their night with Filch, no one had seen much of the boys, who stayed out of sight to avoid retribution from angry, points-deprived Gryffindor House.

Harry backed away from the doorway and looked around. Professor McGonagall had checked off each student as they left the castle, and was now reviewing her list. Meanwhile, Professor Flitwick consoled Marietta Edgecombe, a rather emotional second year Ravenclaw, who was rather distraught she had to stay over the holiday while her friends did not. Penelope Clearwater, the Ravenclaw Prefect, stood at the ready to escort Marietta back to their tower.

"Looks like it's just the handful of us," Quirrell said as he approached Harry.

"Hello professor," Harry greeted him.

"Nothing quite like Hogwarts at Christmas," Quirrell said. "Not many get the c-chance to find out just how sp-special it is, but I certainly missed it while I was on sabbatical."

"Where were you then?" Harry asked.

Quirrell was rumored to have travelled to many places when he left Hogwarts. If the additional creature on the third floor was Quirrell's contribution, there was a chance Harry would be able to deduce the species by knowing more about Quirrell's time aboard.

"Here and there," Quirrell answered, "Russia for one, a rather dreary spot infested by a Pogrebin colony. The little buggers took run of the place after migrating from their native territory."

"A Pogrebin?" Harry had never heard of it, but he would make sure to tell Sirius, just in case Quirrell had brought one to Hogwarts.

"Small, looks a bit like a rock," Quirrell described them. "They'll roll behind you, magically radiating a sense of h-hopelessness. When you feel like all is lost, that's when they p-pounce and try eating you… makes for a rather unpleasant holiday. Well, it's-it's much better here, don't you think, hm? I expect you see you while we have the chance to relax a bit... perhaps for tea?"

"Of course professor," Harry answered.

Harry watched Quirrell make his way over to McGonagall. Harry was looking forward to spending a bit of time one on one with the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. Though perpetually stuttering and socially awkward, Quirrell was full of fascinating information. There was a chance he'd even teach Harry another spell. So far, it was only Charms and Transfiguration where first years were taught actual spellwork. Quirrell's impromptu private lesson was not over the most useful of spells, but it was still something at least.

Alone in the Entrance Hall, while others chatted amongst themselves, Harry felt rather out of place. None of his friends had remained. Gryffindor Tower was practically empty, with only a hand full of fifth and seventh years staying to focus on their exams.

Tonks had left too. He had seen the girl off. She was upset he did not mention he was staying earlier. She claimed she would have spent the holiday with him in the castle or made him come home with her. Harry was skeptical that her parents, who had never met him, would be so willing to take him in. Then again, her mother was his cousin too. But Tonks would have had to convince them to take in Black Dog. There was no way Harry would be separated from his godfather ever again.

Thinking of Sirius, Harry considered making his way through the snow to visit him. However, Sirius was going to explore the third floor corridor tonight, and needed to rest before his adventure. With nothing else to do, Harry decided he might as well run around the castle a bit. He did not have the Cloak, as it was in Sirius's possession, but with fewer students in the school, it would be easy to move about even without it.

With thoughts of exploration running through his mind, Harry debated where he should travel. He hadn't tried finding the other House dormitories yet, and they were definitely on his list of places to discover. He could also try the door on the fourth floor again. He had not gone back, yet the door was always on his mind.

Deciding to give it another shot, Harry hurried off for the stairs, taking them two at a time up to the fourth floor. Entering the corridor once again. He made his way to the door. Checking to make sure the hallway was abandoned, Harry drew his wand.

"_Alohomora_," Harry once again tried.

It failed as it had last time. Harry leaned against the stone wall opposite from the door, elbows resting on a window ledge, thinking about what to try next. He stared hard at the nob, as if willing it open would do the trick. He could feel the pull of something beyond it driving him to try again. Perhaps he just wasn't putting enough power into his spell.

"_Alohomora_," Harry nearly shouted.

Still the door remained locked.

"_Alohomora, Alohomora, Alohomora_," Harry repeated the spell over and over again.

Harry stopped his casting and kicked the door in annoyance.

_Click_

The faint sound of the latch giving was followed by the door opening ajar. Taken back by the sudden unlocking, Harry stumbled before pushing the door further to allow entrance. There was something in the back, but Harry was not sure what. The room was dark, the only light coming from the hallway.

"_Lumos," _Harry whispered. He blinked as he adjusted to the light. Within the room, he saw a pair of green eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: …and it's a cliffhanger. Sorry I'm not sorry?

Harry is carrying around Wormtail's old messenger bag. Dursleys' forced Dudley's castoffs on him his whole life. So I don't think Harry would think twice about using it, even if Sirius didn't refurbish it for him. Also, it has a handy compartment for hiding the Map and Invisibility Cloak.

You may have noticed Ron didn't stay for Christmas. In cannon, his parents visited Charlie, which is why he, Percy and the twins stayed. The Weasleys don't have much money. So I get not take them along. What I don't see is Mrs. Weasley abandoning four of her younger children to see only one of the elder ones, at least not on Christmas.

Pogrebin come from _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. Every creature, character, object and spell I use has root in some form of Harry Potter media, whether it is from cannon (the books), video games, or movies.

**Next Chapter:** Secrets of the fourth floor room are revealed, and Harry spends his first Christmas at Hogwarts.


	16. Chapter Sixteen: Another Life

**Chapter 16: Chapter Sixteen: Another Life**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the franchise of Harry Potter. The world and characters used in this story belongs to J.K. Rowling. Material has been altered to suit the needs of this fanfiction.

**Warning:** This story is rated M for strong language and graphic violence.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Sixteen:<strong>

**Another Life**

**...**

**Godric's Hollow****, 14 December 1991**

_Godric's Hollow. _

Harry was not sure how he knew that name, but that _was_ the name, and he was in that place.

Harry stood atop a gravel road cut into a rolling hillside. To his left, further up the road, there were other dwellings, half hid but the signs of postboxes, tire tracks and cleared out driveways giving them away. To his right, the road led to the countryside, green as far as he could see. In front of him, he faced a lone cottage guarded by a white picket fence line and surrounded by sessile oak and ash trees.

Harry had a strong gut feeling the trees should have already turned to oranges, then fallen browns by the cold seasonal weather, but he shook it off. He liked them better as they were; green like summertime was the way this beautiful landscape should always appear, Harry decided. In all, this place felt familiar; like he belonged here more than anywhere else he'd ever been before.

Harry unlatched the gate and stepped toward the two story cottage. He was drawn to the upstairs window furthest to the left. He imagined the room beyond it painted bright emerald in the light. The image left him unsettled just long enough to hesitate when he reached the front door, but even then, only for a moment. The smell of freshly baked cookies lured him inside.

"Harry, is that you?" a silvery voice chimed from further within the home.

Harry followed the voice to the kitchen, where the smell of cookies grew stronger. Letting his nose guide him, he found a sheet of chocolate chip cookies cooling on the stove top.

"There you are," Harry heard the soothing voice say again, causing him to turn around.

"Mum?" Harry asked, meeting eyes as emerald as his own.

She was lithe yet womanly, dressed in comfortable jeans and jumper. Long flowing locks framed her face, in a vibrant, deep red more pleasing than the Weasley orange Harry was used to seeing at school.

"Of course, who else would I be?" Lily Potter rhetorically responded. "Now come on, everyone's been waiting for you."

"For me?" Harry asked, as his mother ushered him through the house and out the backdoor. "What for?"

"For your birthday of course," James Potter shouted from outside.

Harry ran to his father, leaping into his arms. James spun him once before putting him down.

"Happy birthday Harry," James whispered in Harry's ear.

A chorus of "Happy birthday," rang out from the gathering of Harry's closest friends. Hermione, Ron, Neville, his Quidditch team mates and more filled the backyard clearing. Even Hagrid was there, hanging off to the side, ducking under the tall branch of an oak tree.

"There are presents," Tonks pointed out, while giving him a fierce hug. "Come on," she added, taking his hand and leading him to a wooden picnic table covered in wrapped boxes.

"Open mine first," Harry heard a raucous voice speak out from behind him.

Harry yanked his hand from Tonks's, covering his face with his arm, expecting to be hit. The blow never came. Harry peeked under his arm to eye his cousin Dudley warily. The plump boy was holding out a package wrapped in gold paper. He was smiling proudly at his gift.

"It's from all of us," Uncle Vernon gruffly said.

Aunt Petunia nodded along kindling. Her sweet smile was foreign to her face, but Harry could not deny she looked much prettier this way. There was even a hint of family resemblance between his mother and aunt he would not have seen before.

"Not so fast, me first," came another voice.

"Sirius!" Harry yelled for his godfather. "You're here too?"

"Can't miss my godson's birthday, can I?" Sirius answered. "Remember, I promised? Nothing and no one is taking you away from me again."

That was true; Sirius had promised. Harry was all alone before Sirius had come for him. As long as he had Sirius, he would never be alone, not like before.

But that wasn't quite right. A flash of memories played through Harry's mind; past birthdays at the cottage, holidays overseas, cheering from the bleachers at professional Quidditch matches in Exmoor. Sirius had always been around for the important events in his life, right alongside his parents. Prongs and Padfoot were never too long away from each other. Sirius was as much a part of his family as anyone. Had Harry ever been alone?

"Come with me Harry," Sirius told him. "My gift is up in your bedroom."

Harry laughed as he chased after his godfather, who had switched to his Animagus form to charge ahead. He followed as Sirius entered a harsh green-lit room. He was standing near were Harry knew a crib should be, but there wasn't a crib; there was a twin bed. Why did he expect to see a crib?

Harry shook his head to clear his confused mind; this was his own bedroom. There was his broom propped up in the corner, and his Falmouth Falcons shirt hanging over his desk chair. And the walls were a calming light blue, not the terrifying shade of green he had imagined.

"What's my present?" Harry asked Sirius.

"The truth," Sirius cryptically answered as he handed Harry a new deck of playing cards.

"The truth?" Harry questioned, staring down at the unopened pack.

_What kind of gift was that?_ Harry wondered.

Perhaps Sirius was a little more touched from his time in Azkaban than he let on. It must have been difficult there. Prison certainly didn't sound appealing. Combined with being surrounded by Death Eaters and placed there falsely accused of murdering his own best friend, it would be enough to drive anyone a little mad.

The idea angered Harry. Who would ever believe Sirius would betray his parents? It was Wormtail who got them killed, and it was Voldemort who did the killing. Harry's mother had died right in the very room Harry stood in.

"Harry dear," Lily Potter said, as she joined him inside the bedroom. "Everyone wants to see you. Come back downstairs."

"This is where he killed you," Harry replied. _How is she here if she's dead?_ "Isn't it?"

"Killed?" his mother asked. "Harry, I'm fine… see?"

She reached out and took his hand gently. Harry expected a warm, protected feeling to flood his body, but all he felt was icy shiver. Her touch was cold and lifeless. She _was _dead.

"Sirius," Harry cried for help, "what's happening?"

"This isn't real," Sirius whispered. "I'm sorry."

It was not real. Harry remembered now. He was not in Godric's Hollow. He was not celebrating his birthday. There were no past parties. The Dursleys' never bought him gifts. His parents were dead and had been as long as he could remember.

Harry fell to the stone floor of an abandon classroom. His wand was still gripped firmly in his hand, illuminating the room. Harry blinked to clear his head. Had he been dreaming?

The scene felt so real, even though Harry knew it to be false. He was in Hogwarts. It was Christmas break, and he had just broken into Dumbledore's secret room on the fourth floor.

Harry relit his wand light and looked around. The door to the outside was open, but only a crack. Harry vaguely recalled he had left it wide open before. He scrambled to stand and make his way back through the door, but he looked back into the room before taking his leave of it. Against the far wall, there stood a mirror. His reflection was barely visible through the grimy surface.

The oval shaped mirror was freestanding, ornate and tall, nearly reaching the ceiling of the small room. Harry was drawn to it, banishing any will to run. Instead of walking away, he moved closer. Within the large golden frame was an inscription of scrolling words, which read like gibberish: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. _Harry wondered if it was foreign and possibly ancient.

He touched the engraved edges and felt a shock. He instinctively jumped back and looked at the mirror again, to see his own reflection. The image through the dirty face of glass was murky and dull, but Harry's green eyes still stood out. As Harry focused on his own eyes staring back at him, the colors and shades began to swirl until those same eyes belonged to a new face. It was that of his mother, looking the same as she appeared in his dream only a few moments before.

"Mum?" Harry asked the reflection.

"Hello love," Lily Potter's image answered back.

"Are you real?" Harry asked her. "No, you aren't real; Sirius said so. This is some sort of magic."

"I'm real as you want me to be, for as long as you stare into this mirror," Lily explained.

"It isn't real," Harry said more for his own reassurance than to his mother's reflection. "I need to go."

"Then go," Lily replied, "but come back to me, my Harry."

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. He wanted to stay, and the longer he remained, the greater his urge grew. He fought the feeling, gathered his bag, which had fallen from his shoulder, and ran from the room.

He did not stop running until he reached the safety of his own dorm room. Out of breath and panting, Harry tried to process what he had just experienced. He had seen his mother for the first time; she spoke with him through the mirror. Before that, he saw even more; friends, family, his father. The house and the party seemed so real, but he had awoken from it like a dream. Still, he did see his mother after he woke, and that part definitely was not a dream.

She asked for him to see her again. He wanted to; there was a part of him that never wanted to leave. He also knew he shouldn't. The mirror was obviously magical of some nature, and it must be powerful for Dumbledore to be so secretive with it. Could the mirror bring back the dead, or did it only manipulate his thoughts?

Harry needed to talk to Sirius. He would know what to make of the mirror. If there was enough time before lunch, he would travel to Hagrid's hut immediately. Harry looked outside to gauge the time.

"What?" Harry said in surprise.

The sun was low, just peeking over the trees and mountain line from the east. It was early morning. Somehow he had lost an entire day. Harry was sure the mirror was to blame.

* * *

><p><strong>The Forbidden Forest, 15 December 1991<strong>

When Harry joined his classmates and professors for breakfast, he was chastised by Professor McGonagall for disappearing for so long the day before. His excuse of visiting the kitchens did little to appease her wrath. As there were so few wizards to occupy the castle, she expected Harry to be present for meals. This way she could at least check on his wellbeing each day until the new semester. She also ordered Penelope Clearwater to keep an eye on Harry. It was nearly half the day spent before he was able to shake his escort and disappear on his own to find Black Dog.

Harry was hesitant to bring up the mirror, even though he knew it should have been his priority. There was an overwhelming desire to revisit it and see if his mother would return again. Still, there were other important topics to discuss with his godfather. As soon as he stepped into the clearing within the Forbidden Forest, Harry knew what he wanted to hear about most.

"How did it go?" Harry asked Sirius, referring to his godfather's exploration of the third floor corridor.

"Not at all like I thought it would," Sirius said as he stretched his human form.

"What was past the trapdoor?" Harry eagerly asked. Finally the mystery was over.

"Nothing," Sirius said. His mouth twisted into a deep frown.

"I don't understand," Harry said in confusion. "Then while did Dumbledore go to all the trouble?"

"Diversion?" Sirius guessed. "I have even more questions now than I did before. The second door on the third floor was so well locked, I was unable to open it…at least not without signaling to the whole school I was there; nearly busted up my knife trying. The door hiding Fang, however, was as simple as an _Alohomora_ to enter.'

"Fang was put in the corridor first, but he's guarding empty rooms and hallways so filthy, I don't think those walls have seen a hobby-elf in years. I saw signs of vines beginning to grow in one of them, it was so bad. But the door next to it, I can't get into. The same goes for that door you found on the fourth floor, and who knows what's in there."

_The fourth floor?_ How could Sirius not get inside? Harry had managed it, and come to think of it, he had even spent the night in that room. The door was left wide open when he entered, and it was certainly open when he woke up in the morning. Sirius should have seen him already inside.

"There's a mirror," Harry confessed.

It was time to talk about his experience. Though there was a part of him that wished to hold back, keep the mirror all to himself, Harry retold his experience the best he could.

"That's dark magic, Harry," Sirius warned. "I've never heard of a mirror such as that one, but the desire you felt, the things you saw, there's no question a powerful curse is involved. You must stay away. Shield you're mind from its draw. Focus your thoughts like we've practiced. Promise me this."

Harry nodded. Sirius's response was not unexpected.

"A Cerberus guarding nothing, another beast locked away just one room over, and now a cursed mirror inaccessible by my magic yet not to yours," Sirius counted off his growing worries, "Ogres released in the castle, dark magic where children can stumble upon it…Harry, I fear the worst has yet to come."

"Will you try again?" Harry asked Sirius. "…to see the mirror, I mean."

"No," Sirius stretched the word out deliberately. "It's unwise to tangle with the Dark Arts not knowing the magic involved. I was barred from the room, yet you were lured in. My mind is better guarded than your own, but the mirror could have defenses I'm not prepared for. I need more information before trying anything else. We have the Map and Hagrid's loose tongue. In time, one will lead us to what we need to know."

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts Library, 18 December 1991<strong>

Harry huddled under his Invisibility Cloak, reading by wand light over the table of contents to a massive tome. It was late, long after curfew, not that curfew was so strictly enforced during the holiday. However, Harry was more than breaking curfew; he was out of bounds researching through the books found in the Restricted Section.

Harry was attempting to make it through Hermione's list. She believed one of the 42 titles would hold the answer to the mysterious package Dumbledore was trying to protect. Starting the Sunday after his friends left for holiday, Harry began his research in the daytime hours, going through the books not restricted to him.

Much of the reading was too advanced for Harry to grasp, and it was long before other visitors to the library cottoned on to this. Mostly fifth and seventh years studying for the end of year exams, the majority of library visitors ignored him, save for an odd glance or two. Fortunately for Harry, Penelope Clearwater felt it her duty to aid Harry ever since McGonagall told her to keep an eye on him. She was the one to show Harry he could use the table of contents to expedite his search through _Important Modern Magical Discoveries_.

Three days later, alone in the dark, surrounded by the moaning and rattling books of the Restricted Section, Harry silently thanked her. The particular tome he was reading, Godelot's _Magick Most Evile, _contained everything from potions to dark rituals. He was nearing the end of possibilities held within the book. Most artifacts listed were too large to fit; the ones small enough did not seem right either. There were chapters devoted to objects like the Hand of Glory, which though dark, was not really rare, nor that valuable. And those that were rare and small were like the opal necklace in chapter 12. Capable of killing anyone who wore it, the necklace appeared to be powerful, but there were other ways to accomplish the same task, making it not important enough to guard. Harry absentmindedly brushed a finger over his scar, thinking of the Killing Curse. It was mentioned in the book as well among two other spells, classified as the Three Unforgivable Curses.

The best likelihood the book possessed was only briefly mentioned in the forward: a Horcrux. Declared "the wickedest of magical inventions", Horcruxes were not described any further. Harry scribbled the word onto the corner of Hermione's list. He would keep an eye out for more information about them in other books, even though it was an unlikely match.

Deciding that was all the tome would provide him, Harry closed it while reaching out for _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_ with his other hand. A loud wail cried out from the closing book, and Harry frozen. He sat quietly, listening for any signs he had been discovered.

"Someone's been naughty tonight," said a singsong voice floating out from the hallway.

"_Nox_," Harry whispered to extinguish his lit wand.

From the library entrance, Peeves the Poltergeist stuck his head around the corner comically.

"Oh but he's keeping out of sight," Peeves sang with glee. "Oh how I love games so much. Let's see if you can keep away from Filch's clutch."

Peeves began picking up books at random and throwing them against the wall. Each book made a 'Thwack' as it impacted against the wall.

"Student out of bed," Peeves screamed.

Harry did not wait to see what happened next. He held his cloak tightly around his body and ran from the library. Reaching the Grand Staircase, he looked back to see Filch hobbling in the library's direction. Hermione's list would have to wait another day.

* * *

><p><strong>Gryffindor Boys Dormitory, 25 December 1991<strong>

Harry awoke Christmas morning in the same manor he had every day since his fitful experience with the mirror. Though vague and fleeting, Harry remembered just enough to know his dreams were still plagued with an eerie yearning. Half-forgotten faces and false memories haunted his unconscious state, unwilling to let the visions from the mirror fade from his mind completely.

So troublesome were his dreams, Harry did not recollect what day it was until his eyes rested on the foot of his bed. Two wrapped gifts, one long present in Gryffindor red and gold, the other poorly put together in crumpled pink, sat along with several envelopes.

"Christmas presents," Harry whispered in awe.

Harry could not remember ever receiving Christmas presents before. He had seen presents plenty. He had sat at Christmas mornings around a warm fire near the Dursleys' fake tree. He had held presents before as he handed out each gift to the proper recipient, and he collected the leftover wrapping for the bin when the gifts were opened. He had experienced Christmas, but never had he been given a gift on the day, and never given a gift that did not come secondhand.

Sirius did his best to make holidays and Harry's birthday special. His arrival was gift enough that first summer. He had also officially gifted Harry his broom after several months of learning how to fly. But Sirius was limited with what he could do for his godson, a regret the wizard often mentioned.

In the past, instead of a proper Christmas, Harry privately celebrated his own belated present-day twice a year. Without fail, it would only take Dudley Dursley a few days after Christmas or his own birthday to become tired with the old and toss them from his room. Most things were stored for safe keeping by his mother. Harry was not allowed old video games, toys or anything else Vernon Dursley deemed nonsense. The clothes, though, they went to Harry. Too large shirts and oversized pants were Harry's gifts of the past.

Harry put aside the presents for last, wanting to savor the moment. The envelopes all held cards or letters from his friends. The first he opened was from Dean, a hand drawn scene of Hogwarts covered in snow and Christmas lights. Harry attached the drawing to his head board to show it off. The next cards were from Ron and Seamus, each simply wishing him a happy Christmas, but Neville's held a magically animated scene of Santa Claus dressed in red robes and coming out of a green flamed fireplace. Within the card, Neville wrote about his holiday away from the castle, spent with his grandmother. Harry would be sure to store the card with his Hogwarts admittance letter later.

Hermione's greeting card held the longest message. Written on both inner pages of the card and an additional leaf of paper folded inside, Hermione wrote to great length about wizarding traditions and myths of the holiday. The mention of Santa using Floo travel confirmed Harry's suspicions brought on by Neville's animated card, and the tirade over the myth that Santa used slave labor instead of employing his elves, set off bells in Harry's head to be sure and not show Hermione the Hogwarts kitchens anytime soon. But mostly Harry just skimmed over the history lesson. From what he gathered, traditions weren't too far off from what he remembered from living with the Dursleys. Harry added Hermione's card to Neville's for safe keeping, then moved onto the presents.

The pink bundle of wrapping paper, held together with long bands of Spello-tape, was a gift from Tonks. Within, Harry found a smart looking pair of Quidditch goggles. Harry smiled at the thoughtful gift; he couldn't count the number of time he had to push his glasses back into place when playing the sport. He tested them for fit, and then left them loose around his neck to open his second present.

There was no note attached to the package cluing Harry to the giver, merely a flourishing black ink 'Harry' written across one gold stripe of the wrappings. Harry was careful to preserve the handwriting in hopes of matching to the author later; he really should thank them for such an incredible present. That is, if the present was what he thought it was. Holding it in his hands, the weight and length, it really could be nothing else.

Harry opened the package to find a new broom: a Nimbus 2000. Harry recognized the broom by name from the short list of brooms Oliver Wood claimed were best for a Seeker. The broom was supposedly very fast, with powerful breaks not found in other less speedy brooms like Harry's Oakshaft.

"Wait until Wood sees me on this," Harry whispered to himself.

Harry glanced through his window to look at the Quidditch Pitch covered in snow. Checking the hanging clock against the far wall, he noted that breakfast would be ready in the Great Hall soon. He most likely would miss it if he headed off for the pitch, but then again, lunch wasn't _too_ far off. Harry jumped out of bed a dressed in his warmest robes; he was headed for the pitch.

Harry spent the morning flying on his new broom. It took a good portion of that time to get a handle on its increased speed; Wood didn't exaggerate about the difference between the Nimbus and the Oakshaft. Finally coming down from the high of his presents, the harsh cold of winter caught up with him and put a stop to his acrobatic flying.

Seeing smoke rising from Hagrid's chimney, he decided to pay Hagrid and Black Dog a visit. He knew he could get warm inside the hut, and he wanted to show off his new broom to Sirius.

"Happy Christmas Harry," Hagrid's booming voice rang as he ushered Harry inside.

"Happy Christmas, Hagrid. Happy Christmas, Black Dog," Harry spoke through chattering teeth, while heading straight for the lit fireplace.

Black Dog curled up with Harry near the fire, trying to help warm the boy up with body heat. His head lifted and nudged Harry, letting him know he'd seen the new broom. Harry beamed at him and nodded his head for a reply. Harry then shook the goggles hanging from his neck to show then off as well.

"Glad ya stopped by," Hagrid said, grabbing Harry attention. "Got sumthin' fer ya."

Fishing through his oversized robe pockets, Hagrid pulled out a brown paper wrapped present. Harry carefully took it from him, judging the weight of it. Removing the wrapping, he saw a brown leather cover. _A book? _Harry guessed. He examined the cover and did not see a title. So he opened it to see what inside.

Instead of text, he found pictures… pages of them. Each was black and white, but the images moved with magic. It took a moment for Harry to recognize what he was looking at. These were not just picture of young Hogwarts students; these were pictures of his parents.

"Been gatherin' 'em up since summer," Hagrid explained. "When ya told me ya didn't know much about 'em, I thought maybe I could show ya."

Harry did not dare look away from the pages as he watched the smiling faces of his parents and their friends, but his watery eyes and reverence when he whispered 'thank you' spoke of just how special the gift was. _Better than any broom,_ Harry thought.

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts Owlery, 26 December 1991<strong>

Harry finished tying his last 'thank you' letter to a school owned barn owl. The letter was only addressed to 'N. Tonks', but Professor McGonagall had assured Harry at breakfast that was all a messenger owl needed to make the delivery.

Overhead, a white blur flew by. Harry looked up to see if it was Professor Quirrell's owl, but was disappointed to see the bird had far too many black spots to be nearly as beautiful as the owl called Hedwig.

Checking the time, Harry decided he perhaps should take up Quirrell's offer for a chat over the holidays. That way, he might get a chance to see the magnificent owl again. He really didn't have anything he would rather do with his day. He could return to the library, but he was tired of reading. He needed a break for Hermione's extensive list. He could also help Hagrid with the animals, or maybe look through the photo album again, or maybe visit the mirror to actually talk with his parents. What if he just went by the room to see if it was still locked? If it was: fine, he would go on his way. If it was not…he could perhaps withstand another visit with his mum; his last visit didn't hurt him any.

_No, Sirius thinks it must be magic so dark even he won't go near it,_ Harry chided himself.

He really was trying to not think about the room, but was it really his fault the idea popped into his mind? Hagrid just gave him an album full with images of his family, each picture moving as if alive, but they couldn't communicate with him. The mirror, on the other hand, could give him a convincing facsimile of the family he craved. All he had to do was get inside the room again. But he would not do it; he promised Sirius. So, he headed for the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom instead.

When Harry reached the main castle, he began to head left, taking the back way around to the classroom. The right lead to the Entrance Hall and was the most direct route to the Central Tower's Grand Staircase, but it also required passing Filch's office, a place he preferred to avoid.

"Blasted little demon," Harry heard a muffled disembodied voice grumble. It was followed by the appearance of Sir Nicolas de Mimsy Porpington, the ghost who students mockingly nicknamed 'Nearly Headless Nick', floating through the wall toward him.

"Hello Sir Nicolas," Harry greeted the apparition.

"What, what?" the ghost asked, as he finally took note of Harry. "The newest Mr. Potter, a pleasure always. And call me _Nick_; everyone else does. I see you journey south; I suggest thinking better of it."

"I was headed to the Defense classroom," Harry said.

"Ah, I shall escort you, come along then," Sir Nicolas began to float down the hall toward Filch's office. "It's best we go this way. Peeves has struck once more, making all sorts of racket, and there's a smell… well, if I hadn't already died, that would have done the trick."

"Should we warn someone?" Harry asked, joining Nick.

"Our ever beguiling Grey Lady has made off to fetch the Bloody Baron," Sir Nicolas answered. "If anyone can put a stop to devil, it is he."

"He's not the nicest ghost," Harry commented.

"The Baron has his moments," Nicolas defended the gory Slytherin ghost.

"Oh, yeah… no, he's alright," Harry lied. The Bloody Baron was disturbing to look at, with his blood-soaked clothes and overall dark aura. But Harry wasn't referring to the baron. "I meant Peeves."

"Peeves is _not_ a ghost," Sir Nicolas said, offended by the comparison. "A poltergeist is a horse of a completely different color." Nick could tell Harry was confused, so he continued, "All ghosts were once very much alive wizards. In 1492, I was a wizard of some renown, not unlike yourself, I dear say. I met my unfortunate end by the dull blade of an axe, a rather unjust punishment for a miscast tooth-growing charm."

Harry jerked his head to look at the ghost, and tripped as he stepped into the Entrance Hall.

"You were killed because you charmed someone's teeth?" Harry asked.

"Not just anyone, Mr. Potter," Nicolas said, "the lovely Lady Grieve, betrothed to a foul wizard by the name of Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore. He and I were rivals in our younger days, and when the opportunity struck, so did the executioner. Of course, Podmore got his in the end, and our rivalry lives on, even if _we_ do not.'

"Peeves, on the other hand… he is a malicious entity, born and fed from chaotic energies and extreme emotions. His every action is a mechanism to promote more chaos and panic to feed from, and his childlike behavior is a direct result of feeding on the youthful emotions of Hogwarts students. A poltergeist in any other place could be quite deadly."

"And would require an e-exorcism," Professor Quirrell added, joining Harry and Nick in the hallway.

It was not until Quirrell spoke that Harry realized they had reached the classroom.

"Quite right," Sir Nicolas added, "though one could argue Peeves deserves one as well." Turning to face Harry, Sir Nicolas bowed, holding the top of his head to keep it in place. "You have arrived safely, so I will take my leave. Do take care."

With that, Nick sunk through the floor and out of sight.

"You came to see me then, eh Potter?" Quirrell asked.

"Yes sir," Harry answered. "You said I should stop by during the break."

"So I did," Quirrell recalled. "Come in, won't you?"

Quirrell backed away from the door opening to allow Harry to enter, and headed to the stairs leading to his office. Harry felt a blast of heat as he entered the classroom. Looking for the source, Harry was surprised to see the room covered in low burning torches and floating candlelight. Harry pulled at his robe to create air flow.

"A-ah s-sorry about the temperature," Quirrell stuttered, "but the fire is necessary."

Quirrell motioned to the far left corner of the classroom. Squatting atop on a backless stool, sat a pale green, hairless ape-like creature. Its shinny face shifted in form as its wide-spaced, beady eyes looked about the room independently of each other. Without any permanent structure, its skin and muscle slid around loosely, giving it a slimy appearance. Its long arms stuck out far beyond the length of the old brown robe it wore, hugging a pair of short legs. From next to the creature, a flame flickered, causing it to howl in a startled moan and rock wildly on its stool. Only its firm curled-toed grip of the seat kept it from falling off its perch.

"Caught this one pretending to be a suit of armor on the sixth floor," Quirrell said.

"What is it?" Harry asked. The beast was rather unsightly, but Harry could not help but feel bad for it.

"Right," Quirrell said sheepishly. "We haven't c-covered them in class yet. This is a Chameleon Ghoul. It's capable of mimicking shapes, like the suits of armor found all over the castle. Notice how its features won't stay constant; it's the flame's doing. The ghoul can't latch onto the form, and it has a natural f-fear of fire."

"Is it dangerous?" Harry asked, trying to piece together why Quirrell was willing to trap it.

"They can be," Quirrell explained. "Most ghouls are just annoyances, p-pests really. This one, however, tried to eat Filch's cat. I offered to keep it for class dem-demonstration rather than let Filch dispose of it like he wished."

"So you'll just keep it surrounded by fire until term begins again?" Harry questioned. "It seems a bit cruel."

"No," Quirrell said with a smile, "I'm training it! See the robe? Took two days for it to not mind them. It sits when told, as well. It'll be quite the little assistant by term, I'd wager."

Harry doubted the creature's usefulness as he watched the ghoul's large bucked-teeth gnawed on its robe sleeve.

"Enough of that now," Quirrell commanded, sending sparks out from his wand to startle the ghoul into obedience. "Come along, Harry. It's less stuffy up the stairs."

Once atop the stairs, they entered the cluttered space of Quirrell's office. The office had torches like the ones placed in Quirrell's classroom, but none were lit, leaving the room much more livable than the classroom. The professor used his wand to move a couple dozen small straw-stuffed wooden crates to clear space to sit down. He then sat behind his desk, kicking his feet up on a corner of the desk to relax. Harry took one of two matching padded chairs on the other side. From near the window ledge, Hedwig glided to Harry and sat on the armrest.

After some hesitation, Harry kicked his feet up on one of the crates to mimic Quirrell, and noticed heat emanating from it through his worn out shoes. _Warming Charm_, Harry thought. The felling was rather pleasant in the cooler office space. Now aware of the warmth, Harry could feel it radiating from several sources in the office. He really did need Sirius to show him the spell, especially with the cold Quidditch practices he knew would be ahead of him.

"After your conversation with Nick," Quirrell said as he searched his desk, "you may find this of interest."

Harry busied himself by petting Hedwig in a soothing manor, as Quirrell riffled through a drawer. Eventually, the professor pulled out group of clippings that had been stuffed in a folder. He spread the news clippings on his desk turning them to all face Harry. They were headlines and stories filled with gruesome Muggle killings, haunted houses, and mysterious sightings on lonely roads. Several of them were in languages Harry did not recognize.

"Ghosts, spectres, poltergeists, d-dementors," Quirrell began, pointing to different articles. "All are apparitions of a sort, yet very different in behavior and origin. Spectres are no more than shadows of events and people past, harmless as a moving photograph. Dementors, on the other hand, can r-remove one's soul. Ghosts and poltergeists fall between the other two, one a memory made sentient, the other emotion given life, but they all must feed off energy, emotion, magic.'

"The occupants of the castle and the land its rests on provide all the ambient energy the ghosts need to survive. They do well, and Peeves in comparison is more t-troublesome. Don't let them fool you though; a ghost can be as p-powerful as the magic which created it. How they are perceived is chosen by the emotional state the wizard was in at the time of his d-death. That's not just their outward appearance, but how they're r-remembered as well."

Quirrell paused to let the information sink in. Harry's brows were knit together when he looked up from the articles to stare his professor in the eyes.

"Take our Grey Lady of Ravenclaw," Quirrell pointed out, "who is she, or rather who_ was_ she? We don't know, yet s-someone must have known her at the time of her death. We don't know because she does not wish for us to know. Whatever past shame or secret she's hiding; her identity has been forgotten thanks to the magic in her creation."

"So a ghost can change our memory?" Harry asked to clarify. "One day someone we know could die and then they could make us think whatever they wanted of them?"

"Whatever they subconsciously desired," Quirrell corrected, "and to the limit of the magic involved in their death, yes, but no magic is invincible. A memory once hidden can be found again."

"That's rather dark magic to discuss with a first year," Professor McGonagall said, making her presence known. Speaking to Harry, she added, "Perhaps your time could be better spent with the other students. A couple Ravenclaws were playing chess in the Great Hall. I'm sure they let you join… or you could go flying. I believe you received a new broom. You should be familiar with it before Mister Wood gets ahold of you."

"You got a new b-broom for Christmas?" Quirrell reintegrated himself into the conversation.

"Yeah," Harry said excitedly. "I also got a new pair of goggles from Tonks, and Hagrid gave me photographs of my parents."

"Did you get anything from your a-admirers?" Quirrell asked with a grin.

"My what?" Harry asked in confusion. "No, just my friends."

Harry looked back and forth between his professors to explain.

With an exasperated breath, McGonagall said, "You were given other gifts, many others from wizards all over England. We've kept them back, but for good reason. When you came to our school, you were placed under our protection. For every wizard with good intentions, there could be another who could hurt you without even meaning to do so."

"Ah," Quirrell nodded his head in understanding, "l-love potions and the like could mess with your head. Who knows what kind of c-charms a lovesick witch might use."

"More than just that," McGonagall said. "Cursed objects, Portkeys and magical contracts could all be hidden within something as small at a letter. We could return them all to you; however, the Professors would need to check them all first. It would take time, and would not be without risk."

The mirror on the fourth floor and Sirius's warning of dark magic came to the forefront of Harry's mind.

"No, professor," Harry said, "that's not necessary. I don't really know those other wizards anyway."

"A wise decision Mister Potter," McGonagall approved.

"Right," Harry said, "thanks…I think I'll go flying now." Harry glanced to the crates. "That is if one of you wouldn't mind casting a Warming Charm on me. Chess is more Ron's speed than mine."

"I was never one for chess either," Quirrell spoke as he cast the spell silently. "Then again, I was never any good at f-flying a broom. Now, magic carpets on the other hand…"

"Are illegal," McGonagall interrupted." Run along Mister Potter; Professor Quirrell and I have a staff meeting to attend."

With a quick goodbye to Hedwig, Harry left to retrieve his broom. He cut through hallways and passages with thoughts on memory altering magic, ghosts, death, and dark artifacts running through his mind. When he reached an old wooden door, he gripped the cold iron handle to pull it open.

_Iron Handle? _Harry questioned. He was headed to Gryffindor Tower, where he last left his broom. _Did I take a wrong turn?_

Harry stepped back, hand still on the handle, to see where he was. Instantly he knew; he was on the fourth floor, standing before the room holding the dark mirror. Startled and scared, he released the handle. But it opened on its own.

"Harry," his mother's voice rang out. "Come to me, Harry. I've been waiting for you."

"We all have," that was James Potter; Harry was sure of it.

"Dad?" Harry asked, already knowing the answer.

As quickly as that, Harry found himself embraced by his dead parents. They were on the porch of their home again, the same porch where they celebrated his birthday. _Godric's Hollow_, Harry thought. _No, Hogwarts; I'm at Hogwarts. _He was surrounded by stone, inside the castle where he attended school, not Godric's Hollow, wherever that may be. Godric's Hollow, with green forest and his parents' home. His mother led him to the railing of the porch.

"Do you see Hogwarts?" Lily Potter pointed off into the distance. Trees parted, landscape shifted until the castle rose into view.

_Yes, Hogwarts, that's right_. Harry thought, but he was seeing it from a distance, he should be inside of it.

Harry shook his head to clear the fog. His mother was in front of him through the glass of the mirror. Harry turned away from her, to see the door to the room had already closed behind him.

"When did I get inside the room?" Harry questioned. Last he remembered, he should have been outside of it.

"Harry," Lily called for him. She was still in the mirror, but her arms were outstretched from it, reaching for him.

"Harry," She cried again.

Harry closed his eyes so not to be tempted.

"Harry," her voice was raspy and firm.

"Harry." That was not his mother's voice.

Harry was shaken hard, and when he opened his eyes, he found blue ones staring back at him. Albus Dumbledore was half kneeled down before Harry.

"Come with me Harry," Dumbledore said, the hand on Harry's shoulder not giving him a choice but to move where Dumbledore did.

He led Harry back into the hallway and further down the corridor until the room with the mirror was out of sight.

"You fought against it," Dumbledore finally spoke. His eyes bored into Harry's until the boy couldn't take it any longer and looked away. "I'm sorry you had to face it. I hoped my protections would keep it away until it could be moved again."

"What was it?" Harry asked. Even Sirius was not for sure.

"The Mirror of Erised," Dumbledore said, "it is a powerful magical artifact capable of showing one's deepest desire. You saw your parents, yes?" Getting the affirmative nod, Dumbledore continued, "you long for your family more than anything else, so the mirror showed your family.'

"But you must not return to the mirror again. There is danger in finding comfort within the mirror's thrall. The mirror has a desire of its own; it craves to be seen, and feeds on your magic once you gaze upon it. Its hunger is insatiable, Harry. You feel tired; that is the mirror's doing. That is the result of its power. You can rest now; it is safe to do so. When you wake, the mirror will be move elsewhere, and you will not see it again."

Dumbledore was right, Harry was tired. His eyelids were too heavy to keep open.

"Sir," Harry began to ask, fighting to stay awake. "You saw the mirror; what did you see?"

"A warm pair of socks for a cold day," Dumbledore whispered his response as Harry drifted off.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Some different and some the same, what did you think of the mirror?

Harry received only a couple presents. Students can't leave the castle to shop for gifts. Also, it feels silly for Molly to knit a jumper for Harry this first year. Harry is one of Ron's new friends, but Molly has never met him.

I'm getting messages about Harry's wand and the Invisibility Cloak, so hopefully this will clear things up for readers:

Harry has the yew wand instead on the holly; this is on purpose, and the switch is explained by Ollivander in Chapter Three.

Sirius was aware of Filch taking the Marauder's Map, but had no idea Wormtail was the one who stole James's Invisibility Cloak. This is explained by Sirius in Chapter Fifteen.

**Next Chapter:** Harry handles Hagrid's gambling problem.


End file.
